To These Words I Beheld No Tongue
by A Bee Cee
Summary: Young Catherine Stafford saw her world fall into pieces when her father, the Duke of Buckingham, was beheaded for treason against the King; now she is alone in the twists of Henry VIII's court and the eternal changes in England.
1. Chapter I

_**A/N:** Hello all!_

_This is my first published The Tudors' fic and I really hope you enjoy it. I want to explain a few things before we go on, though._

_Catherine is __**not**__ necessarily an OC. We see her in the very first episode of the first season; she is the girl Charles Brandon (later Duke of Suffolk) bets with the King. The one that is slapped by the father when he catches them in the act. Yes, the daughter of the Duke of Buckingham. _

_In the series she is credited as Anna Buckingham, but the Duke of Buckingham never had a daughter named Anna. He had four children: Henry, Elizabeth, Catherine and Mary. Little information is known about his daughters and I've chosen Catherine to be the one we see in the series and that's when we go from real history to fiction. _

_In real history we know Catherine married 4th Earl of Westmorland, but here her story will be completely different. Here, for example, despite being the girl we see in the series she will have only one sister (Mary), who will be younger than her. I just wanted to use one of his daughters' real name; to give a real name to that girl we see in the very first episodes of the series._

_The fic will have some real facts and some fiction as we go through, if you have any questions regarding what is what, you are free to contact me._

_I'm very aware of how King Henry VIII's real history was, but this is a __**fiction piece based in the series The Tudors**__. I also use some information from the fiction book "__**The Autobiography of King Henry VIII**__" by Margaret George._

_Please be warned that there will be __**spoilers**__ from the episodes and I do not own anything you might recognize from the series or real history. The characters I use are how they are portrayed in the series._

"_**To These Words I Beheld No Tongue**__" is a song by __**Theatre of Tragedy**__._

_Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it! :) Thanks in advance for reviewing it as well._

_**PS:**__ I do not tend to write long Author Notes, only in the beginning of the stories.  
_

* * *

**I**

_15 of May of 1521._

Buckingham's Estate - Penshurt

Catherine Stafford had her eyes closed when she heard the first knock on the door. It took her a moment to take her mind away from the prayers she had been saying since she had woken up that morning. The young seventeen year old stood up from her knees, leaving her black rosary over the bed.

"Come in," she said lower than she expected while picking the trail of her dress and walking towards the middle of the room. Before the door opened she managed to wipe the few tears from her cheeks.

The wooden door opened and soon the figure of one of her servants appeared before her, the young boy bowed to her. She wondered of their loyalty to her, for any of them left the estate even after her father was imprisoned for high treason.

"His Eminence, Cardinal Wolsey, my lady," the boy said and before she could react to the announcement, he left the room and then the figure of Cardinal Wolsey appeared before her.

The girl forced herself into a slight bow, while with her head down a thousand thoughts ran in her mind; she believed Wolsey plotted to have her father imprisoned. And for that she had to _force_ herself to bow to him.

"Your Eminence," she said as quietly as before, ever politely. Lifting her head and looking at the Cardinal's eyes.

"My Lady," Wolsey barely nodded his head, he took a quick look around the girl's stateroom, as if analyzing it, before looking at girl's light hazel eyes. "I am sent here to treat matters of your father."

"I must confess I am impressed you have come personally," Catherine replied. After her father's imprisonment it was as if she had matured thirty years, but she was yet to learn how to hold her tongue.

"As I know Your Grace is a very busy man," she added quickly when Wolsey stared at her.

"Indeed I am, but the King requested of me to come personally," he did not try as hard as her to hide his discomfort to be there. There was a slight pause as he moved his eyes around the room again; Catherine however maintained her eyes on him.

"In any way, Lady Catherine of Buckingham," he continued shortly, as if reminding himself of what were his duties there, his eyes again on hers. "As you already know your father is to be executed in two days, at ten in the morning on the seventeen, in Tower Hill."

"Yes, I am aware," she replied politely, hiding her anger towards him to talk of her father's execution as if informing her whether that afternoon would be good for a picnic or not. She put her hands together in front of her body in nervousness, trying not to breathe too heavily under the tight corset.

"You are to visit him one last time today," he continued as cold as before, his eyes dancing around the room between his words and landing on hers now and then. Catherine nodded slowly at this, feeling a strange cold in her stomach. _One last visit_.

"Now, for the other matters," he gestured apathetically around the simple, yet slightly wealthy room. It was no denial that Catherine was brought up in wealth and almost royalty, being tutored inside and outside England. However, after the imprisonment of her father, most of her jewels and fine things were taken to the King's treasure. All that remained of her personal possessions were her dresses, nothing else.

"The King is aware your father had no born sons and you are left with your three year old sister to take care of, since your mother is _also_ dead," Wolsey continued with some sly when pronouncing _also dead_. Catherine chose to ignore it, nodding for him to continue.

"The King is sympathetic to you, as you are second cousin to Queen Elizabeth wife to King Henry VII," he added; the very reason why her father thought he was earn to the throne. _How ironic if not tragic_, she thought for a second. "And His Majesty has requested to keep you in court as lady in waiting to Her Majesty Queen Katherine, thus he will also let you keep this estate in Penshurt remaining the Buckingham's Estate, where your sister must remain with her tutor and your expenses are still paid by court."

It took the brunette a moment to understand all the information. She remained quiet as she reviewed Wolsey's last words in her head; the King was sympathetic to her and has requested for her to go to court and serve the Queen, while her expenses are still to be paid by court and her sister can still have her tutor. She swallowed dryly and finally broke eye contact with the Cardinal that waited - clearly impatient - for her answer.

Knowing the King and his infamous affairs she feared for a moment the only interest the King had was to have her. _I must not think so high of myself_, she thought of a moment. But she had already left herself be fooled by the charms of Charles Brandon, one of the King's personal friends, and could not help to think of this. However now everything was different; she had changed with all that has happened to her father. And even though she would prefer to live elsewhere as a common, she had to think of her sister Mary; something her father has forgotten with his blind obsession with the throne.

"Well?" Wolsey's impatient voice brought her back from her thoughts and she looked from the ground to his eyes again.

"Thank you, my Lord," she replied almost dryly, but politely and managed a nod.

"You are free to visit your father today, as I have told you," Wolsey continued as if her answer did not really matter to him but rather only awaiting for his next turn to speak. "And you are entitled to attend his execution. Your duties as Lady in waiting begin when you are to return to court after the execution in that same day. Look for Lady Margaret, also lady in waiting to Her Majesty."

"Yes, thank you," she replied with a superior look she had to bear not to show her anger as to how he was treating the whole matter. He did not seem the slightest concerned by her or her sister, and to make her start her duties with the Queen the same day her father was to be executed only confirmed his indifference with her.

"My lady," he nodded as a farewell, still untouched by the whole situation.

"Your Eminence,' Catherine bowed slightly once again, looking at the wooden floor, she heard Wolsey's steps towards the door.

"Ah, Lady Buckingham," Wolsey called by the door, his back already to her. Catherine lifted her head to look at him, but her knees still slightly bent.

"My sympathies," he added and before she could answer, he was gone.

**x**

Instead of waiting for her servants to prepare the carriage to Tower Hill, Catherine anxiety made her ride a horse herself towards the prison. Following her was two of the King's guards and one of her own guards and servants.

She was a fast rider, as her father always encouraged sports when she was younger, and could have gone alone. However until she was to return to court, she would be followed by the two royal guards and Mark, her servant, refused to leave her alone with them.

It was a cold and clouded day, the spring fighting to flourish over the winter still. And Catherine could feel the cold wind touching her face and making her long cloak and hood swing behind her as the horse rapidly responded to her commands and trotted to Tower Hill, just outside the city of London.

When approaching the white and imposing tower, the two of the royal guards that were following her took front and the gates were opened for her and the escorting to pass, she then followed the guards to the entrance, barely looking around at the garden and other guards watching her.

"Lady Buckingham," one high ranked guard greeted her as Catherine unhorsed with the help of Mark.

"My Lord," she nodded slightly, adjusting her dress and cloak, maintaining the hood down to have a clear vision of everything.

"Lady Catherine Stafford of Buckingham has permission of His Majesty, King Henry VIII to visit her father, Edward Stafford, third Duke of Buckingham," one of the royal guards informed professionally standing by Catherine side without unhorsing.

"Very well," the other guard replied and gestured for Catherine to enter the Tower. She hesitated for a moment.

"My Lady, do you want me to go with you?" Mark whispered beside her. She smiled very lightly, it had become way too hard for her to smile, and shook her head.

"Better not, please stay here and wait for me," she whispered back and Mark bowed shortly. She was grateful for his loyalty to her.

With that she glanced at the guard and nodded, entering the Tower and following him inside. The sound of her heels echoed in between the stoned walls and she felt dizzy walking in the poor illuminated halls. However she pick up her strength and kept following the guard between the laces of stairs and endless halls until he finally stopped by a wooden door, guarded by three men.

One of the men immediately set his eyes on her and glanced at the guard with her, who nodded for him; he then turned to open the locks of the door and entered the cell.

"Your Grace, you have a visitor," she heard the man saying inside the cell and followed him with her eyes as he stepped outside again and gestured for her to enter. She followed the gesture and with a cold in her stomach, she entered the cell.

"Oh, Catherine!" her father exclaimed from a corner. She looked around rapidly to note the horrible conditions he was forced to live his last days. The cell barely had any light and only a sewn bed and a simple and small wooden table, where her father was.

"Father," she said under her breath and ran to his open arms. She had never received such a strong embrace from her father. They were always so distant; it was as if for the first time she felt he _wanted_ her there.

She fought the tears that came to her eyes, imagining this would be her last time close to him. _If she only knew_... She would not have disobeyed him, she would not have preferred to stay in court under the charms of Charles Brandon, she would have chosen to retreat to her estate with her father. But now, it was too late.

"Catherine, I thought you were not to see me," he said, letting go of her to look at her eyes. He held her face with both of his hands and looked deeply at her eyes, as if trying to keep her image in his mind. She observed his red hair and beard and his honey-coloured eyes , just like hers, she then smiled when noticing that also like her, he was fighting his tears.

"They made me stay in Penshurt; guards remained at our steps... I could not find a way to come," Catherine explained with a low and failing voice. She had indeed tried to escape and ride to the Tower, but the guards followed her everywhere.

"You have done right to stay," he nodded and she started to hear that mad and controlling tone he always had in his voice.

"I am _so_ sorry, my daughter. My wealth is to stay with you," he said, letting go of her and walking nervously around the cell. She turned around to look at him; the same controlling Duke of Buckingham, the thirst for power that had also driven him mad and sentenced him to death.

"Thomas More assured me you and your sister would not be left to the winds," he continued. Catherine swallowed dryly and took a moment to reply.

"Our treasures are the King's now, father, last night they came to claim them," she informed him lowly and observed the madness again in her father's eyes. He wide opened them and yelled in frustration, she remained where she was, feeling half scared and half indifferent.

"_NO_!" he yelled, not looking at her anymore, gesturing and walking around. "HE PROMISED! THOMAS MORE IS A BASTARD JUST LIKE HIS KING!"

"BUT," she raised her own voice to stop her father from screaming or soon the guards would take her from there. The Duke stopped at his daughter's raised voice and looked at her.

"Cardinal Wolsey paid me a visit today." she lowered her voice and observed his eyes wide again; he walked towards her and continued lowly.

"What did he want? Did he do something to you?" he asked, with visible anger in his voice.

"Father, I beg you, just _listen_ to me," Catherine implored before he started yelling in madness again. The Duke retreated, sitting on the bed.

"Cardinal Wolsey said the King has decided to keep me in court, as lady in waiting to Her Majesty Queen Katherine," she explained slowly and carefully. Observing her father's lost eyes focused in the nowhere in front of him.

"He also said we are to keep our state in Penshurt, where Mary will stay under the care of the tutor she has now and some servants, the expenses are still to be paid by court." she concluded.

"And has the King decided this out of his _good_ will?" the Duke asked, raising his head to look at Catherine, still by the wooden table. She noted the sarcasm and mocking tone in his voice.

"Wolsey told me he has sympathies for our relation to Queen Elizabeth and King Henry VII," she said, her eyes on him and the fear of him losing his temper again. She observed him scoffing sarcastically.

"However now that you have said Thomas More assured you to help us," she reasoned quickly at that, pondering. "I believe it was _him_ who used this argument with the King."

"I do not know whether to advise you to accept his _token of sympathy_ or to be away from court as much as possible," the Duke reasoned for the first time in a long time. He knew the cunning people that surrounded the King's court and he did not trust the King himself. He knew what _could_ happen to her there.

"I would not accept if not for Mary," Catherine dryly cut his thoughts with her voice, he glanced questionably at her. "But _I_ think of her."

"I am sorry I have not thought of you two," the Duke replied with a guilty tone. He couldn't bear to look at her eyes by then and stared at the floor one more time. "I am so terribly sorry. Please forgive me."

Catherine felt the guilty in his voice and wondered if she had been too harsh with him. She could not help to think that she must not ask for him to reason, he had lost his mind a long time ago. Seeing him in that cell only assured her of that. She observed him, still staring at the ground, with pity and felt the tears running down her cheeks; she stepped in his direction and was interrupted by the door opening again. She stopped her pace and observed the guard.

"My Lady, you must leave now," the guard said coldly, setting his eyes on the Duke, still sitting on the bed and his eyes still fixed on the nowhere.

Catherine took a moment to turn her pace from her father's direction to the door. She was never close to him and his madness had driven them even more apart. Nothing else had mattered to him in a long time and she was always very aware of that, it was when she was almost leaving the cell that she heard her father's voice again.

"Catherine," he called her, she turned around to see him looking at her eyes now, like her he had tears rolling down his cheeks. "Do you forgive me?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice failing and nodded to assure him. She then met the guard's impatient eyes for her to leave and at once she continued her pace out of the cell. It was when she heard the locks on the door again that she realized that he had _not_ said he _loved_ her.


	2. Chapter II

_**A/N:** Hey people! I have got a lot of story alerts and faves, but only one review here! :( It's okay, though. Knowing that people are reading it already makes me happy, but I'd like to know your opinion, too. :) _

_This chapter tells a bit of Catherine's background and the important happenings before the Duke's execution. Some things are from the series, some real history, some I made up, I hope you like it. :)_

_Oh yes, just a reminder... I am using the timeline they use in the series (and the facts in the series and the age of the people too), many things in the series happen before the time they did in real history and some are even modified and I'm keeping them that way. :)  
_

* * *

**II**

_17 of May of 1521_  
Buckingham's Estate – Penshurt

Catherine sat by the door steps holding the golden necklace in front of her eyes; the pendant open to show her father's small painting in one side and her mother's on the other. Her eyes analyzed her mother's figure and remember her father saying she looked so much like her. She smiled, noting that indeed they had a lot in common.

She had a lot of memories from her mother, at least more than her sister Mary: Alianore Percy was the daughter of the fourth Earl of Northumberland, her also deceased grandfather. For a few seconds she found herself thinking of how everyone around her was dying, little by little, like a curse.

It was still clear in her memory when she received the messenger in the estate she was living in Paris; she was fifteen years old and living in France to finish the rest of her tutoring. The young English boy gave her the news that her mother had died of puerperal fever, only four days after the birth of her sister Mary.

The young Catherine then returned to England only to find her mother already buried and to meet her new sister. Since that day, even though she returned to Paris days after, she returned to England every year for a few days to visit her mother's resting place.

It wasn't until Catherine turned seventeen that she thought of ever living in England again. Her father had finally asked for her to return, not because he wanted her with him, but because Mary asked for her in the ever absence of their mother. And so she returned days after her birthday, in the beginning of the winter in November, barely six months before her father's execution.

It became quite clear for her why exactly the Duke wanted her there; he barely ever had time to be with Mary, let alone with her. Mary was always under the care of her tutor, Lady Eleanor. And their father lived in King Henry's court.

For all possible meanings, it was obvious that she had a curiosity about the so egocentric King and his court. Being accustomed with Francis I's court, full of musicians, painters and poets, she was curious to see how the English court actually was. However, it wasn't until the second week of her arrival that her father took her to Henry's court.

In the beginning it was difficult for her to see a much conservative court; but then again, Catherine lived in the French court in her maturing years, being sent to France when she turned thirteen to improve her artistic skills. Being trained in dance, painting, singing and playing, she did not quite understand why that was still somewhat rare in the English court; at least compared to France. For her it was as if England was starting to let those things be part of its life.

But what the English court was still growing in artistic matters, it did not lack in sports. Nearly every day she would see the King and many others leaving for jousting, tennis and hunting. It was actually in a tennis game that Catherine saw the King for the first time, a few days after she arrived in court.

The King was playing with three of his close friends; Charles Brandon, Anthony Knivert and William Compton. Men that her father did not take long to tell her who they were: "commons", as he said the first time. He loathed the way the King would let men with no titles whatsoever to be part of his court, let alone be the His closest friends.

Henry VIII was much younger than Catheirne expected him to be, he was clearly around his late twenties. He was handsome as she heard he was, his blue eyes were like war spears and he seemed always aware of his surroundings. He did have the royalty in his actions, whatever they were, he always seemed superior. Even in a tennis match. She admired him for a second, but different from most of the ladies, the King did not hold her attention as much as the other man playing by his side; Charles Brandon.

Catherine set her eyes over Charles Brandon and there they lingered for a long time. Ever analytical, she kept her eyes on him most of the match, as if trying to see under his boyish figure.

Brandon was probably the youngest of the four playing. He seemed to be around his mid or even early twenties and it was clear he was the king's favourite. As the king, his green eyes were very aware of his surroundings. Though she noted that also like the King, he was still immature. Even she, being younger than him, was more mature. But perhaps that was because she was tutored as a princess (her father honored their York blood) and Charles - even though he was son of standard-bearer of Henry VII and died defending him - Charles was still a "common", as her father told her.

Yet, there was something in him that caught her attention. Perhaps it was his handsomeness and clearly wild and dangerous personality. And it didn't take long either for her to hear other young ladies speaking enamored by him.

Charles, as the King, was a ladies man. Catherine in her discretion found out soon enough how many ladies he had been with in court. And, being the daring girl she was, she made sure he would notice her during the tennis match. She stayed in the third cabin in that match, the closest she could get to Charles side, and stayed right up front. It didn't take long and her quick perception noted as he looked at her and immediately started talking with the King while playing; thinking - as any man - that she wouldn't notice it. But not Catherine, she lived way too long in France not to note these kind of things, while her father stood clueless by her side.

What also bothered Catherine of her relation with her father was that he never knew who she really was. On the outside she was everything a well brought up girl should be; highly educated, mannered and discreet, she seemed just another one among many others; a fine match for any noble man to marry, especially because of her relation with the House of York.

But on the inside she was always observing, analyzing, thinking, pondering... She was far from dull and narrow minded. And of course, her teen years in France were a secret to her only. Her father would never imagine what she had lived in Francis' court.

But Charles Brandon soon found that out. Only a day later she was watching the jousting games next to Queen Katherine's ladies in waiting, in the royal cabin, and Charles, who was competing, charming asked her the honour to wear her favours during the match. Acting surprised she did not let him down and tied her blue cloth to his wooden spear. He won the three succession matches after.

And after that afternoon everything happened very fast. Still discreetly courting with Catherine during the day and evening, careful for her father not to see it, Charles was finally invited to her bed. He confessed to himself in his own mind that he thought it would be more difficult, for he could swear she was a virgin, just waiting for him. But oh, was he so very wrong.

Not only Catherine was not a virgin, she seemed very aware of what she was doing. However, he did not dare to speak his thoughts of the matter... Until her father caught them there - in the act - together. The Duke furiously threatened the young Charles with his sword, but Charles remained sarcastic to his threats. However, when the Duke roared that he had taken his daughter honour, he could not help to let him know that 'someone was there before him', for which he could swear he heard a stifled laugh from the girl, who ran to a corner while Charles remained at the end of her father's sword.

After that night Catherine remained locked at her family's small Estate under the Whitehall Palace, as she did not want to be seen with the mark of her father's furious slap in her face, which left her with a small cut in her nose, from his ring.

And while remaining in her stateroom, she observed Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk coming and going from talks with her father, as well as many others and a few servants, and her father always agitated. He ignored her completely the following days, as if looking at her made him disgusted and for that she thought of returning to France alone; at least there she could still be doing what she pleased and would not have to face her father.

And when she refused to her father to return to their estate in Penshurt, for she still couldn't face him, and the Duke retreated alone, the young Charles soon looked for her in her stateroom in court. _Again_.

Certainly that caught her in surprise. For all that she knew from other girls was that Charles tried them and _left_ them. Perhaps it was they haven't had to chance to actually finish what they started? Or was it because his male pride was wounded by him thinking she _was_ a virgin and finding out she was actually _not_? For that she still had no answers. And once again she responded to his charms. And whenever tried to _speak_ with her, she would interrupt him and they never actually _properly_ talked.

Their affair remained that same way for months and whenever he tried to talk to her, she made sure he wouldn't; as she had done before with others in France. She did not know why she acted like that with men, but it was her way of dealing with things. She never found out what made Charles return to her almost every night until the beginning of the spring, when her father returned to court and sent her to Penshurt, to care for her sister who had fallen ill.

A few days after she retreated to Penshurt Charles traveled to France with most of the court with the King to sign a Treat of Universal and Perpetual Peace with King Francis. Catherine saw her chance there: accompanying the rest of court she could find a way to stay in France, especially now that her sister was cured. But her father also retreated to Penshurt and denied her the arrangements to go to France.

That was when she was able to notice the ever coming and going of people in her estate. Her father was wealthier than the King himself, and he certainly had many admires for that and for his relation to the ancient York dynasty, but something was different this time. She had seen her father locking himself with many others in one of their meeting halls, the coming and going of small cavalries. The training of some swordsmen in her gardens and yards and she sensed something would happen.

When she heard the King and his court had returned to Whitehall Palace, she thought of asking her father to return to London, for whatever was happening in her estate, she sensed it was better for her not to know. But once again denied, she remained there helping tutoring her sister in French. And few days after she found her father had been imprisoned for high treason and suddenly everything became crystal clear in her mind: her father was planning to kill the King and claim the throne. He had gone mad long before she returned from France, and she failed to see that.

"Catherine?" a childish female voice was able to pull Catherine back from her memories. The brunette closed the pendant in her hands immediately and wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes.

"_Soeur_?" Mary's voice called again by her side, in French.

Catherine tied the necklace on her own neck and turned her face to the side, smiling faintly as she observed her sister dressed in black. The small dress covered the child's neck and was made of light velvet. Much like Catherine's own dress, also made of light black velvet and also covering her neck.

Catherine's dress had some details in gold and she also wore a headpiece made of fine gold and rubies; one of the few treasures she still could keep. Her black curled hair was beautifully combed under the headpiece, and she managed to look stunning even in mourning.

Differently from Catherine, Mary had red-hair like their father, but she carried the same honey coloured eyes as her sister. The child carried nothing in her head, wearing her curled red-hair down and combed.

"_Oui_, _mon petit_?" Catherine answered lowly caressing her sister's curls as the child sat beside her on the steps.

"Mademoiselle Eleanor tells me you are leaving," Mary said in her perfect mannered and educated English. Catherine smiled proudly; slowly her sister was becoming much like her and their mother.

"Is it true?" Mary asked, her eyes on the green field in front of their estate. The red-haired child observed the royal guards guarding the gates.

"_Oui_," Catherine nodded, looking from her sister to the open field in front of them. "But I am not leaving for France; I will be in court in London."

"Will you come to visit me?"

"_Oui_," Catherine nodded, observing the last carriage with her personal possessions leaving the estate to the Whitehall Palace. "I am not certain when, but I will try to come as often as they allow me."

"You will not leave like papa did, will you?" Mary innocently asked, this time looking at her sister. Catherine glanced at her, but couldn't bear to look for long at her eyes, rapidly glancing away.

"Papa will not come anymore as I explained yesterday," Catherine replied quietly. She explained to Mary the day before that their father left and this time to be with their mother.

"May I go to visit him?" Mary asked once again innocently.

"God forbid you will not go so soon," Catherine answered quickly, turning to her sister and caressing her red curls. "Father will always be with you, just like our mother."

"Where?" Mary asked.

"Here." Catherine answered with a faint smile, pointing at the middle of the little girl's chest. "_Dans votre coeur_, in your heart."

Mary smiled and Catherine took her in her arms, placing the girl on her lap and embracing her. Mary rested her head over her sister's chest and took the pendant in her hands, opening it.

"Mama _et_ papa," the little redhead said.

"_Oui_," Catherine nodded slowly, keeping Mary in her arms, rocking the little one in her arms while observing Mark, her servant, riding the carriage towards them.

"My lady," Mark bowed, stopping in front of her. The young handsome boy tried to smile a little in comfort, as he knew what Catherine was going through.

"Hello little Mary," he added, smiling as Mary turned her head and smiled back at him.

Catherine then exchanged looks with Mark whom without saying a word made clear it was time for them to go. The brunette then took Mary carefully in her arms and made the girl stand beside her, then she turned slightly to the side and became face to face with her.

"Now Mary, listen to me," Catherine started and Mary paid solemn attention. "I will leave now, but I will come to visit you whenever I can. I want you to be a good girl to Lady Eleanor and the others, do you understand?"

"_Oui_," Mary nodded.

"I want you to keep practicing your French and Latin, too," Catherine said, grooming the little girl's hair. "Remember, you are member of the House of York. Honour your royal blood by educating yourself and pondering your actions."

"_Oui_, sister," Mary nodded and bowed slightly. Catherine watched her bowing and smiled, quickly embracing her sister again.

"Be good, Mary," she whispered at the little girl's ear, still embracing her. "May God bless you." she then kissed the girl's forehead and stood up, picking the trail of her dress.

Mark who was watching the two of them with a smile immediately left the carriage, opening the door and helping Catherine to step in, closing the door shortly after.

Catherine entered the exquisite carriage and sat down with a sigh, she then saw as Lady Eleanor approached Mary by the stairs and Mary blowing a kiss at her. She smiled truly for one last time, blowing a kiss back before the carriage started moving towards Tower Hill.

**x**

"My Lady of Buckingham, my sympathies," Catherine heard for the fifth time as she made her way to the reserved cabin and seats in Tower Hill. Mark faithfully by her side, holding her hand. With her other hand, Catherine held her black rosary tight.

"Thank you, my lady," she whispered for the last woman that spoken to her, without looking at the woman's eyes, she kept her head down following Mark through some steps.

It was incredible how many people loved her father. Despite his controlling actions and not so noble fame; he was charismatic and related to Queen Elizabeth of York; that certainly helped his popularity a lot, for some people were still enraged that a new dynasty as the Tudors has been in the throne for so long. But there were people that loathed her father, too. In any way, what people thought of her father did not matter to her.

"This way, my lady," Mark directed Catherine to a seat. The brunette made her way and sat down finally, she kept her head down all the time. She could hear a whole lot of voices and the shadows of people around her and down in front of the execution stand.

"I will be waiting for your grace in the carriage to take you to court, my lady," Mark said with sympathetic nod. However Catherine reached for his hand before he left, making him stop his pace.

"Mark, may you stay?" she lifted her head for the first time, looking at the boy's blue eyes.

Mark Ashford was only one year older than Catherine herself; he was the son of Lady Eleanor; Mary's tutor and Catherine's tutor when she was younger. Lady Eleanor had been with the Buckingham's for many years, her mother before her also tutored Catherine's mother and Mark was more like a brother to Catherine than a servant. He also had the goodness of the Duke on his side; Edward paid Mark good money to do simple tasks and invested on his studies in England. He considered himself lucky, for even his clothes were finer than a common servant.

However, the young boy for long had deepest feelings for Catherine. He never spoke of them to her, at least not _directly_; he was a poet, even though he kept working as a servant to the Buckingham's, he studied hard and became passionate for words and poems. But he always knew he could never marry Catherine, as she was almost royal and he was _still _a common, but she was ever his muse, even when she lived in France and visited England very rarely.

Mark then blinked his blue eyes with her question and observed her fragileness; he wanted badly to hold her and tell her everything would be alright, but his shyness wouldn't let him do so. He knew she would never think it was off his place to do so, but he never knew where his place with her _actually_ was. She treated him differently, but not differently enough to be one of her lovers, as he knew she had many in France and the _so-called_ Charles Brandon in England. Then again, he did not wish to become one of her lovers, he wanted to _marry_ her; and that was impossible.

"Of course, my lady," he nodded and sat by her side, pulling some locks of his blonde hair behind his ear.

"You know you do not have to call me 'my lady' all the time, Mark," Catherine said lowly with a faintly smile, her eyes again fixed on the ground.

"I apologize, _Catherine,_" Mark replied as lowly as her, his eyes still on her. He noted how she fought to keep herself unaware of what was about to happen until it actually happened. And he could not blame her for wanting to be dull at that time; he could only imagine how traumatic everything was for her.

"Why have you gone so cold with me?" she asked suddenly, both of her hands over her lap and holding the rosary. He did not expect her to talk of these things there, at that moment, and he certainly did not think she would notice.

"I do not know what you mean," Mark lied. Of course he knew why she thought he had gone cold with her; it was because he had gone cold with her ever since he heard from others, and _from her_, of her affair with Charles Brandon. He didn't know Brandon, but he couldn't believe someone in England could have her and not him.

In his poet mind, however, he kept his incredulity to his poems, while trying to keep a distance between him and his muse. But her ever asking him to be with her made it _way_ difficult; she had even asked him to stay in court with her. And of course, he was unable to say no.

"I think you do," she said quietly and finally looked at his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of the trumpets, announcing that the condemned was about to come. Catherine immediately glanced down to the passage the people made for her father to walk towards the execution stand.

Catherine then fixed her eyes in her father being dragged by two guards down the hall of people, many times he tried to stop, but the guards remained dragging him. Even from a distance she could see the fear in his eyes, it was if finally his conscience had spoken with him and he could understand the consequence of his greedy actions.

She felt an immense urge to run down there and take him away, what confused her mind since she did not know whether he would do the same for her. Yet, she felt as if someone was closing her heart in a tight fist and before she could realize tears were running down her cheeks.

Mark looked multiple times from Catherine to the Duke being dragged towards his death. He analyzed Catherine's nervousness; she kept moving her hands, holding the rosary tight and her breathing was heavy and unsteady, he then saw the tears running from her eyes, but her face remained expressionless for most of the time. And once again he felt an urge to hold her, but contained himself and remained by her side watching the execution.

Catherine saw as her father kneeled in front of the piece of wood and the headsman waited for him to lay his neck over the wood. It took Anthony Knivert, one of the King's friends to stretch up her father's arms for the headsman to strike. Before Anthony reached for the Duke, her father lifted his head slightly and fixed his eyes on Catherine on the stands.

Catherine felt as if the ground had vanished from below her. She caught a long grasp when her eyes met her father's and one of her hands instinctively reached for Mark's hand beside her, holding it tight. Mark looked from the Duke to her and held her hand with the rosary, watching as she covered her mouth with her other hand.

When Anthony reached for the Duke's arms and stretched them out, in a blink of eyes the headsman stroke him at once only. Catherine immediately closed her eyes, embracing Mark beside her again as an instinct. He used one of his hands to cover her view while standing up with her to leave the stand as fast as possible. He also did not dare to look at her beheaded father and quickly guided her down the steps.

**x**

Mark made sure no one was able to reach for Catherine and talk to her as he rapidly made their way back to the carriage, opening the door for her to step in and quickly taking the reins of the horses to move towards the Whitehall Palace.

It wasn't until Catherine sat down in the carriage that she wide opened her eyes, evading looking through the windows of the carriage, she kept her eyes fixed on the seats in front of her. She could feel her hear racing in her chest as she cried in silence. The last memory she had of her father was Anthony holding his arms and the headsman's axe reaching his neck, she closed her eyes before seeing the strike.

And her heart was racing so desperately that she found herself extremely tired during the voyage to the Palace, falling asleep before she could do something about it.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Yes, Mark is an OC. We don't see him whatsoever in the series_. :)


	3. Chapter III

_**A/N: **Hey everyone! First of all I want to thank truly all of the reviewers from the last chapters. Your reviews made my day! I also want to apologize for taking a bit longer to update and in case you didn't catch the note in my profile, the reason for the lateness is that I was moving, so it took time for me to be able to write again.  
Nonetheless, here is a brand new chapter. I hope you enjoy and thank you once again for reading and reviewing!  
_

* * *

**III**

"Catherine?" Mark called, holding Catherine's hand. He made sure to enter the carriage when he opened the door and found Catherine lying over the seats. He sat on the seats before her and watched her sleep for a few minutes before choosing to wake her.

Catherine slept deeply, barely breathing. Her mind must've been very tired for her to be able to sleep in the carriage; she was never able to sleep when riding. And that was why he took a moment to wake her up.

"Yes?" she groaned when she felt Mark shaking her hand slowly. She opened one of her eyes, observing his bright blue eyes in front of her.

"We are here," Mark smiled observing her sitting on the seat again. Slowly she yawned and started taking the headpiece from her head.

He analyzed how distant and dull she was from her father's execution again. He saw no more tears in her eyes and observed her careful actions, always exquisite. Again he couldn't blame her for dealing with things like that; it was the same when her mother died. She chose not speak of her feelings, better yet she chose to ignore her feelings in her own conscience. And it wouldn't be him that would remind her of them.

However she couldn't hide her thoughtful eyes from him. He could see she was feeling for it, but tried hard not to. Her eyes were distant, cold and she barely smiled now. What was a great deal for her, since she was always smiling and with high spirits. Now she was only discreet and mannered.

Catherine handed the headpiece for Mark to carry, and he took it with no questions. She then fixed her hair and dress before nodding for him to open the carriage for her to leave. All these minutes they stayed in silence and none of them felt uncomfortable with it.

Following her order, Mark stepped outside the carriage first and with his free hand he helped her to step outside.

Catherine found an immense feast right in the front yard of the Whitehall Palace. She saw many carriages arriving, musicians, jesters and dancers making their way to the grand salon from what she could see. Still holding Mark's hand she turned her head to his side, whispering at him while observing the people.

"Tell me they are _not_ celebrating my father's execution," she said dryly under her breath.

"No," Mark answered quickly. "The King's son has born, for what I have heard while waiting for you to wake up."

"Queen Katherine--?" Catherine started to ask, watching as Mark gave the reins of the carriage to a court servant and told him where to take it. Before she could finish he took her arm, accompanying her towards the palace.

"No, one of his mistress," he said even lower. Catherine stared startled at him for a second. So the King had recognized a bastard son? How ingenious.

"This is _outrageous_," she commented lowly while making her way inside the palace. The people did not even notice her; the death of her father had been replaced by the birth of the King's bastard son.

"Well, yes," Mark said pondering, while observing the people around them and taking Catherine inside the palace. The people did not even pay attention to her, unsure if she was glad or not for that, she followed Mark quietly and evading to look around.

"My Lady of Buckingham," someone grasped gently one of her hands as she passed by a group of men. Mark and Catherine stopped, both turning to face the Earl of Westmorland; a man with grey hair and vivid black eyes, with a certain cunning feeling in his brief smile.

"My Lord," Catherine greeted with a nod as the man kissed her hand gently. She glanced at Mark for a second, who remained at her side as she turned her attention again to the Earl.

"My deepest sympathies for your father," he said in a low voice and taking a quick look around, as if afraid someone was paying attention to them. But everyone was focused in the King's celebration and barely looked at the three of them.

"Thank you, my Lord," Catherine replied dryly, but politely, not taking his word into account. In all truth, she thought no one was really sorry for her father's death; especially when she saw this enormous feast as if nothing had happened.

"I am here to make it understandable to Your Grace that I was and still am loyal to your father and the House of York," the Earl continued even lower, but Catherine and Mark could her him perfectly. Catherine maintained her eyes on him as she heard Mark sighing a bit impatiently by her side.

"Many are still loyal to you, Your Grace. And we are all deeply saddened by the way all matters have turned out," the Earl went on when Catherine simply nodded in consent that she was listening. "Alas, we cannot change what is done, but I, and others, lay my loyalty to you, my lady."

"Then my lord should know I have lost everything and am not a Duchess as many might think, though it was my _right _to," Catherine replied shortly after the Earl finished, as if she was indeed just waiting for her turn to speak and not really listening to his words.

"Now I am simply Lady Catherine Stafford and I have no means to pay your loyalty, neither am I interested in it," she continued as the Earl looked startled at her bold words. Mark looked intently at her, but said nothing. "I am sorry to say, but political matters never appealed to me, especially after they worked in ways to behead my father. Now, if you excuse me."

And without waiting for the man to reply, she picked up the trail of her dress and retreated to the way she was heading before. Mark stood there for a moment, looking at the Earl in shock and smiled briefly as the man exchanged a look with him. He then quickly made his way through the people and reached for Catherine already leaving the main hall.

"That was quite a reply," Mark commented shortly when he finally reached her and kept walking by her said.

"This court is filled with sly, false, unworthy people and—"

"And very, _very_ beautiful women now and then," a third voice cut Catherine's distressed rant. Both her and Mark stopped as they looked behind a column and saw no one less than Charles Brandon and William Compton by his side, knowing the voice that cut her came from the first, Catherine scoffed indignantly.

"Lady Buckingham," William greeted with a polite, but sarcastic nod. Catherine shot a killing look at William for a moment, ignoring his greet and glancing at Charles that remained with his boyish smile, holding a chalice with wine in one hand and carelessly lying against the wall.

"I did not know you had a talent for hiding behind columns and listening to other people's conversations, Brandon." Catherine said in a low and defiant tone, as her eyes locked in Charles'. The young man laughed at her and looked from her to Mark and back at her again.

"Oh, I have many talents that _Your Grace_ has already discovered," Charles replied suggestively, but still with a careless tone in his voice. He reached for her arm and pulled her closer, for a moment she hesitated and Mark moved beside her. She glanced intently at Mark before letting herself being pulled by Charles. He took her closer and looked down, deep into her eyes. From where she was she could smell the alcohol in his breath, but remained expressionless staring at his eyes.

"But I still have many more talents; _Your Grace_ is invited in finding them out." Charles concluded more whispery, but both William and Mark could hear him. He made sure to emphasize the words 'Your Grace' each time, as he knew that she was no longer a Duchess.

William scoffed and looked away from the two, as Mark stared at them hiding his distress, but his eyes suggesting a certain annoyance with the whole situation.

"Clearly humbleness is _not_ on your list, is it?" Catherine replied with the same defiant tone as before, without waiting for Charles to answer, she took her wrist from his grasp and walked away from him, glancing at Mark to follow her.

Mark followed Catherine in silence this time and she did not seem bothered with that, as she kept her pace and her eyes to the front, evading to look at him. He couldn't understand why would she let Charles Brandon speak in that disrespectful manner with her, let alone why would she even listen and reply to him; but the poet kept again his thoughts to himself.

Catherine wanted badly to have killed Brandon there and then, but in her mind she was unsure if the reason for her distress was the fact that he made sure to remember her that now she was much more of a common in court as he was; point in fact, being close friends with the King, now he was one position higher than her. Or was it because he did not make the slightest effort not to let everyone know of their affair? Whatever was the case, little she did know that the Earl and Charles were only a taste of how life in court would be for her now.

**x**

"My Lady, this is Catherine Stafford," Catherine was introduced almost an hour after she had arrived in court. Already dressing the blue ornamented dress as all the others Ladies in Waiting and already introduced to them, she bowed quietly and looked down as Queen Katherine stood in front of her.

"Welcome, Lady Catherine," Queen Katherine's warm voice and strong accent gave her the permission to look in her eyes. As the young girl met the Queen's eyes she was again greeted, this time with a soft smile.

Queen Katherine was much older than King Henry and she had a motherly aura in her that was impossible not to love, or at least admire. Her strong features showed that she was a beautiful young girl once and her bright blue eyes contrasted with her black hair and fair skin. On that afternoon, however, she bore sadness in them.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Catherine, still slightly bowing, nodded and the queen gestured for her to stand, and so she followed.

"I am sure Lady Eleanor has already helped you with your new chamber," the queen said with the same soft smile and Catherine nodded at her. "I have heard you studied in France, is that true?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, that is true," Catherine replied.

"That is truly a wonder," the queen said and gestured for Catherine to follow her to another chamber, with another gestured she ordered the other maids to stay. Catherine quietly followed her; feeling that she should be at least nervous, she couldn't help to feel comfortable in the presence of the queen.

"I also know you had the education of a princess," the queen continued when they were already alone in one of the endless sitting rooms. However they both remained stood side by side. Catherine smiled and nodded in consent. "Have you learned Spanish?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Catherine said timidly. "But I am forced to believe my Spanish certainly is not as fluent as my English or French."

"Still," the queen continued. "I have for some time longed for someone to speak Spanish with me at times. As you must know, my Spanish maids had to leave."

"It will be a pleasure, Your Majesty," Catherine replied truly. Slightly relating to the Queen in front of her; like Katherine of Aragon, she was stripped from everything that remembered her of home. She also could only imagine the Queen's pain with the feasting for the King's bastard son; however she wouldn't dare to ask of it.

"I like you, Lady Catherine," the Queen said and Catherine stared at her for a moment, unsure of what respond to this. The Queen smiled at her again and took her hand with hers. "I am deeply sorry for your father."

"Thank you, my Lady," Catherine replied, feeling the tears in her eyes. She did know why, but the tears she was missing from the moment she stepped out of the carriage were all at once brought back with this simple gesture from the queen; it was as if from all the people that had expressed their sympathies to her, the queen was the first sincere one.

"I think you should retire for today," the queen pondered watching the girl crying in silence, still holding tight her tiny hand in hers. "I _say_ you are off your duties for today, you need to rest."

"No, Your Majesty, I couldn't possibly—"

"It is an _order_, Lady Catherine," the queen said in a more severe tone, but still docile.

Catherine smiled truly at her and nodded, taking a white and delicate handkerchief the queen handed to her, before leaving to carry one with her new orders.


	4. Chapter IV

**IV**

"_Why_?" Mark shouted an octave higher as he walked from one end of the stateroom to the other. "Why won't you be part of it?"

Catherine sighed for what seemed to her the fifth time that day. She then walked in silence towards her dresser and picked up the locket with her parents picture, turning around to face Mark by the window, meeting his eyes waiting eagerly for a reasonable answer.

"Why should I?" Catherine finally broke off the silence, walking towards him and gesturing gently with her hands, despite her firm voice.

"Tell me in all honesty, does writing such play pleases you? I am very aware this is not the kind of writing that appeals to you, Mark."

Mark was then the one to stare at her in silence. She stopped in front of him waiting for an answer this time and he took a moment to think of one.

It was now the fourth day he'd been asking her to be in the pageant he was paid by Mr. Cornish to write; a small play to welcome the Spanish envoys that would arrive in court within a few days. Catherine denied being part of the play from the moment he mentioned it to her; but for him it would be much easier if she accepted, being his muse he would have much more inspiration to write. Even though, as she wisely pointed out, this wasn't the kind of writing that appealed to him.

"Well, you are right, it does not appeal to me _that_ much," he said and she smiled mockingly, as if letting him know she was glad to be right. "But it would make a great difference, and much easier for me to write it if you accepted to be part of it."

"Oh Mark—"

"Just imagine!" He cut her off as she rolled her eyes and tried to turn around, but he held her wrist gently, making her look at him. She stopped and sighed once again, crossing her arms impatiently waiting for him to speak.

"You will be Perseverance, standing by Princess Margaret's side." Mark finished, as if this was the best argument he could find to convince her. Catherine continued with her arms crossed and not looking convinced at all.

It had passed almost two months since they arrived in court. Catherine finally was over her father's death, although she rarely showed any feelings towards it, it seemed that finally she was able to live again. Being lady in waiting to Queen Katherine had helped her whole lot; every day she would wake in the morning and attend service with the Queen, by the afternoon she would take long walks in the palace and talk in Spanish with her. The Queen, knowing she had never been a lady in waiting, tried to give her the lesser tasks as possible and Catherine could not feel more grateful for that.

Mark on the other hand, out of his own will, had started working in court with Mr. Cornish to organize feasts, some of the sports and receptions for the various events that took place in court everyday. It wasn't much and it certainly wasn't something he enjoyed, but at least it kept him occupied and it gave him time to work in his writings as well.

Life in court itself had become a game of hide and seek for Catherine: the nobles would look suggestively and attentive at her, as if like her father and her grandfather before him, she could be plotting against the king. She tried hard to ignore everyone, but sometimes it was impossible and she had to face some people. Although advised by Mark, and even the Queen herself, not to respond or give importance to these people, she rarely held her tongue and ended up replying with certain attitude.

As to the Charles Brandon matter, for her most luck, the king kept him busy the last months and she rarely was left alone with him, they would meet now and then during dinners, feasts or jousting games, but she was always accompanying the Queen and he was always with the King, so they remained only exchanging stares; angry from her side and provocative from his.

"Well, no Mark," Catherine said after pondering a while, she gave him her locket and turned around, holding her long curled hair with both hands for him to close the locket in her neck. "I am not prepared for it."

"Prepared? Why?" Mark insisted, putting the necklace around her neck and closing it. "You are a great dancer and trained in acting as well, Catherine! And you are beautiful... What else would take you to be prepared?"

Catherine turned around and again crossed her arms, she had a smile in her face; she couldn't believe how insistent he was.

"Who is in it?" she asked. "Besides the Princess and the King?"

"Well," Mark took a moment to reply, not very sure where she was trying to get with such question. "Mr. Compton, Mr. Knivert, Lady Elizabeth your friend, Lady Margaret the lady in waiting and..." his voice trailed off, realizing her point.

"_And_?" Catherine hushed him, even though she already knew the answer.

"And Charles Brandon." Mark said, looking down, clearly defeated.

"See?" Catherine said gesturing around. "Excellent reason for me not to be there!"

"I would not have him there if it wasn't the King's order, you know this," Mark replied quietly, visibly annoyed by the fact he had to have Brandon in the same room as him.

He had never told Catherine, but the rare times he crossed paths with Brandon in court, and they were both alone, Brandon made sure to remind him of his affair with Catherine, as if he could feel in the air that the poet had feelings for her.

"I know, Mark," Catherine smiled fondly and reached for his hair, pulling it behind his ear. "But I am sorry, I would rather watch it with you."

The door opened suddenly and as a reflex, Catherine stepped away from Mark putting her hands together in front of her body. She did not know why she reacted that way when someone saw her too close to Mark; or to any man for that matter. While Mark could not understand why she sometimes was so close, but at the same time so far… Untouchable.

They both looked at the door to find Lady Elizabeth, one of the other ladies in waiting and who had become close friends with Catherine, standing by the door. Elizabeth was a beautiful blonde; her hair always wore up in a bun, she was very conservative and religious. Different from Catherine, who even though was a Christian, had a very sinful past from Elizabeth's eyes, but this had never drifted them apart.

"I am sorry to interrupt," Elizabeth said shyly as she caught when Catherine stepped away from Mark.

"It is alright," Catherine said with a reassuring smile, Mark nodded and smiled faintly. "What is it?"

"Lady Margaret calls for you," Elizabeth replied again shyly. "She is at Her Majesty's meeting hall with the other ladies in waiting."

"Something wrong?" Catherine asked lowly, as she walked towards the blonde, still by the door.

"No," Elizabeth replied quickly. "Not _yet_, at least." she said even lower.

Catherine looked confused from her to Mark, who nodded for her to go, as he also looked confused. Both girls nodded back in a farewell and headed their way towards Queen Katherine's meeting hall.

Lady Margaret was the oldest of the ladies in waiting; the one responsible for recruiting and training the ever changing other ones; a very strict and easily annoyed woman. She not only made the lives of all the maids a living hell while they were on their duties, but she also minded the young girls business while they were not serving the queen. Catherine wondered, while she walked in silence through the endless corridors following Elizabeth, if she had done something extremely wrong in the last few days. However nothing occurred in her mind, leaving her even more paranoid.

"Hey," Catherine had her wrist held gently, but firmly as she turned around a corner in one of the corridors and entered one of the main halls. She stopped immediately and looked to the side, finding Charles Brandon holding her. She then glanced forward, finding that Elizabeth did not see her stop and was already leaving the hall to another corridor.

"Where are you going with such an angry face, Lady Buckingham?" Brandon asked sarcastically, with a charming smile as always.

"Brandon," Catherine said in a sigh, rolling her eyes and drifting his hand from her wrist, but Charles firmly held it, not letting her go. Catherine glared intensively at him.

"I heard your little poet friend is writing the play," Charles said, staring back at her eyes. "Will you be part of it as well?"

Catherine, clearly annoyed, opened her mouth to reply, but Charles as always pulled her closer and she simply stared at him as he smiled. He then continued whispery.

"Which of the kindness will you be?" he asked with a smile. "Lust, I am sure."

"Well," she smiled gently, which caught him by surprise and he retreated a little, but she stepped forward. "Lust is _not_ a kindness, I apologize for disappointing you."

"You see, from my point of view—"

"And _no_," she said a little louder to interrupt him, then back to her normal low tone. "I will not be in the play."

"Oh, he must be devastated," Charles replied in a mocking tone as she stepped away from him, but again did not let go of her wrist.

"No, _Your Grace_," Catherine replied and as she pronounced 'Your Grace' she pulled her own wrist harder, but this time she did not struggle for him to let go. He stepped back, looking somewhat shocked.

Catherine heard that same morning about Charles Brandon being nominated Duke of Suffolk by the king. The ceremony had not taken place yet and certainly not a lot of people knew, since it was such fresh news. Little by little she was starting to understand why her father hated Henry; she did not know why, but she felt extremely offended by the fact Brandon was made a Duke out of nowhere, while she had been stripped from all her rights as a Duchess because of something she had not done herself. More and more she understood why her father thought King Henry VIII was nothing more than a spoiled brat.

"He is being paid to do it," Catherine continued, looking victoriously at him as she observed his reaction. "It was a request, not his own inspiration."

"Your Grace?" Charles asked, failing in trying not to show how startled he was for her to know about his title already. "So you already know."

"Bad news travel fast." Catherine replied superiorly and turned around, following Elizabeth's trail to the queen's meeting hall. Charles this time let her go and watched as she disappeared between the people.

**x**

"Lady Catherine, where were you?" Lady Margaret said in a scolding tone as Catherine closed the meeting hall's door and turned around.

"I apologize, Lady Margaret," Catherine said lowly as she joined the other ladies. "I was with... No matter. What do you need of me?"

She then noted another girl coming from a door behind Lady Margaret; she couldn't see the girl properly until both ladies turned to face her and the other girls.

"As you know, Lady Victoria will be leaving us soon," Lady Margaret continued and glanced at the girl beside her; she was a beautiful young brunette, with piercing blue eyes. Apparently Catherine was the only one who recognized her, for the other girls looked curious.

"This is Lady Anne Boleyn," Lady Margaret continued, gesturing to the brunette beside her. Anne smiled fondly, but suspiciously at the other girls. To Catherine however, she nodded with a true smile.

"I believe you two already know each other from France," Lady Margaret concluded, gesturing from Catherine to Anne. Catherine nodded.

"It's really you then, Catherine." Anne said brightly and approached her old friend. Catherine smiled widely.

"Hello Anne, I must confess I am impressed to see you here," Catherine replied as Anne took her arm, as indeed an old friend. Catherine did not pull her arm away, but felt an incredible will to.

Anne knew too much about Catherine's past and that certainly bothered her. They matured together in France, and Anne knew about everything Catherine did while there. They were never really close friends, but they held a mutual understanding and relationship, as Catherine also knew about Anne's misadventures.

"Well, there is always time to come back," Anne said with a smile, completely ignoring the other young ladies staring at her and taking Catherine away by her arm. "I have heard of your father, my deepest sympathies."

"Thank you," Catherine replied, not entirely convinced that Anne was sincere. "But this is a past event and I would rather not mention it."

"Of course, how silly of me!" Anne said with a gentle gesture. "I wanted to see you when I heard you were here because as you must know," she took Catherine closer and whispered.

"These ladies haven't had half of the education we had and I would prefer to be with someone I know is equal to me in my first days. Would you accept it?" she concluded.

"Of course, my pleasure," Catherine replied sincerely, quickly realizing that the closer she kept Anne to her, the better to her reputation. She still wanted to have her title back.

"It is settled then," Anne raised her voice a little and looked at Lady Margaret that, like the others, just waited for the two girls. "Lady Catherine has accepted to help me to familiarize with everything and everyone, if you don't mind Lady Margaret."

"Of course not," Lady Margaret said a little impressed, and certainly not happy with it, but hid it well. "Thank you, Catherine."

"Now, if you excuse us," Anne continued and with a small nod, took Catherine away by her arm. The two girls left the meeting hall together and Anne excitedly continued as Catherine numbly walked by her side.

"Show me _everything_!"

"But already?" Catherine replied lowly, as they walked among the other nobles, now and then they greeted some. "I thought you were coming only after Lady Victoria left."

"Well yes, but since I am here you could start helping me by now," Anne said calmly. "We could enjoy each other's company."

"Well, if you must," Catherine said with a faint smile. She was surely used to Anne's extroversion - differently from the other ladies - and for that she felt almost comfortable with her. But she could sense something behind Anne's exaggerating attention towards her.

"What do you want to know first?"

"Oh Catherine, I know you and you know me," Anne smiled suggestively and Catherine smiled back. "Tell me of the King."

"I am sure your father told you of him?"

"Well, yes. But my father is not a young woman," Anne replied and Catherine laughed lowly. "What do you think of him?"

"He is handsome, yes. More than King Francis, anyway," Catherine said and they both shared a laugh as they walked outside to one of the gardens. "But a little too controlling and egocentric. He seems too young to be aware of the consequences of his actions."

"I want to meet him," Anne said dreamily. "I heard there will be a pageant... A play and a dance to greet the envoys from the Holy Roman Emperor, is it true?"

"Yes," Catherine said quietly, successfully hiding that she noticed how Anne was too well informed for someone who had just arrived. "My friend Mark Ashford was paid to write such play."

"Was he?" Anne tried to hide her interest, but failed. "And I heard the King will be part of the play."

"Yes, he will."

"Do you think you could help me to be on the play and able to meet the king?" Anne turned to face Catherine and they stopped, Anne then took Catherine's hands and whispered with a smile. "It will be our _little secret_."

"Hmm, actually _yes_," Catherine said after a brief silence. Seeing an opportunity for herself there. "Mark was begging me to be part of it, but... for higher matters I couldn't accept his request. I could certainly tell him to put you instead."

"And you being his friend I am sure you were supposed to have a special role?" Anne titled her head to the side, smiling suggestively again.

"I believe so, perhaps yes." Catherine smiled falsely.

"That's wonderful!" Anne said with a laugh and took Catherine by the hand, playfully turning the other brunette as if in a dance and then stopped as she noted some people looking at them.

"I will be eternally grateful if you helped me, hum?" Anne said lowly, reassuring as if she noted that Catherine also had an interest in helping her.

"I'm _sure_." Catherine smiled back at her friend as they, once again, held a common understanding.


	5. Chapter V

_**A/N:** Hey everyone! I'm sorry for not updating or reviewing lately, I've been way too busy. But here's a new chapter for you! I once again thank you for reading, and please review to tell me what you think. :)  
By the way, this chapter contains dialogues in Spanish. I kept them in Spanish because I believe it brings more 'life' to the story, but the translation is between brackets after each sentence. I apologize if there are mistakes in my Spanish, but I tried my best! I also had to break the chapter in two because it was too long, so soon another one will come.  
Anyways, please enjoy and don't forget to tell me what you think.  
_

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**V**

Framingham Castle

Residence of the Duke of Norfolk

The day was unusually bright. It had been raining the past two weeks, which had made quite difficult for some nobles to travel to and from court. Nevertheless, that particular day the sun chose to shine and it was pleasant to be outside.

Taking full advantage of that, Lord Thomas Howard, or mostly known as the Duke of Norfolk, took his two dogs for a stroll in the beautiful garden in one of his estates and his main residence, the Framingham Castle. Shortly after he was joined by his brother in law, Sir Thomas Boleyn.

The two nobles walked side to side, enjoying the beautiful landscape that surrounded them. With a ceremonial distance, two of Norfolk servants took the dogs, following them.

"You have found some means to put my niece before the king?" Norfolk asked with his usual cunning and low tone, looking forwards and maintaining his slow pace.

"Yes, Your Grace. Already arranged." Boleyn replied politely. "Anne is to appear in the pageant for the Spanish envoys, as is the king. She will find a way to draw his attention."

"Good!" Norfolk said with a satisfying sigh and stopped to look at the man beside him. "When she opens her legs for him, she can open her mouth and denounce Wolsey."

Both man shared a common desire to have Cardinal Wolsey out of court and away from the king. Besides Wolsey always defending his own interests, no one could deny that the only way to reach the king was through him, and that being said, neither Norfolk or Boleyn would ever be able to manipulate the king in their own favor.

"They do say that the sharpest blades are sheathed in the softest pouches." Norfolk commented dryly after a pause. Boleyn looked at him in silence, not sure of what to say. Regrettably he needed Norfolk by his side, but he much appreciated to do everything alone.

"In any way," Boleyn said after his brief pause. "Anne now is in debt with Catherine Stafford. Lady Stafford asked of her friend, Mark Ashford - the writer and assistant to Mr. Cornish - to put Anne in the pageant instead of herself." he made sure to explain fast, as Norfolk narrowed his look.

"The boy rejected a quantity of money I offered him, as has Lady Stafford."

"Catherine Stafford?" Norfolk asked a bit surprised, and Boleyn nodded. "The Lady of Buckingham?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Boleyn nodded again; he too was a bit impressed with Lady Stafford's ability to so soon include herself in the schemes in court. "The first of Edward Stafford."

"Well?" Norfolk asked imprudently.

"Anne has wisely chosen to stay friends with Lady Buckingham," Boleyn continued. "She might not be a Duchess, but she is one of the Queen's favourite ladies. And, of course, we all know of her affair with Charles Brandon."

"In what Catherine Stafford could be in further use for us or to my niece?" Norfolk kept his arrogant tone.

He despised Lady Stafford as much as he despised her father; and he could hide it well that all this arrogance towards their family was because they were the richest and most respected family in England before the King had stripped them of their treasures.

"She knows the Queen and she has Charles Brandon in her hands whenever she chooses to." Boleyn replied wisely. As much as he despised the Buckingham's as his brother in law, he had to admit that even with no declared power; the Lady Stafford was well too wise.

"And we must not forget Charles Brandon is close friends with the King." he concluded.

"Well, the silly girl then could finally be of use besides sleeping with French nobles." Norfolk commented once again arrogantly. He very well knew of Catherine's fame in France.

'Yes, but we better keep an eye on her." Boleyn insisted and Norfolk nodded apathetically. "She is much clever than she seems, I suspect."

**x**

"_Dear Sister,_

_I have asked of Lady Eleanor to write this letter to you. I miss you._

_I know and understand you are busy in court, but I would love to have you here for at least one weekend. I miss you dearly. I wish to show you how my French and Latin has improved as well as some my knitting. _

_All the best from someone that loves you above all things,_

_Mary."_

Catherine finished reading the letter for the second time, this time out loud, and smiled. She then folded the piece of paper carefully and stood up, putting it in one of the pockets of her dress; as the other ladies in waiting, she was using the common blue and caramel colored dress that all Queen Katherine's ladies used.

Receiving a letter from her sister was by far the best thing that had happened to her in the past few weeks. With Mark busy rehearsing with Mr. Cornish for the pageant, she barely talked to anyone. Her only company was the Queen and sometimes she would accept an invitation for a walk with Anne Boleyn. But all the same, no one could higher her spirits more than Mark.

"Isn't she adorable?" Catherine asked when Mark stood up with her. They had met for a quick stroll in the palace gardens before the Spanish envoys arrived. She knew that once they were there, the Queen would request more of her, and Mark finally found some time to be with her.

"Indeed she is." Mark nodded, following Catherine through the hall. Now and then greeting some nobles along his way.

"I want so much to see her." Catherine continued as two guards opened the heavy wooden doors to one of the gardens outside, she smiled to them and walked to the garden, Mark following her.

"Well, with the Spanish envoys arriving today, I am sorry to say you won't be able to leave court so soon." He said with a certain regrettable tone, Catherine then stopped by a fountain and turned to face him.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "Only I was a Duchess by right, I would not have to stay here and stand all these two-face nobles... That from nobles have nothing."

"Are we speaking figuratively here or you're directing your words to someone?" Mark asked with a playful tone, but both knew he was serious. Catherine gestured apathetically.

"Boleyn. Thomas Boleyn." She said lowly, looking down.

"Oh..." Mark said reluctantly, lying against a tree and taking his hat off. His blonde locks were tied on tail behind his neck. "You're still suspicious."

Gradually Mark had gained certain fame. His poems were known in all court and even the King once showed some interest in his art. Always so discreet, he remained as he always had; humble and honest. Different from most, he did not let the power and recognition in court corrupt him. Not even all the ladies that now were after him, as he was also handsome, had interest for him. He kept himself loyal to Catherine and during this time they became closer, their bond was even stronger. And he never, ever stopped loving her. Catherine, however, barely noticed that; thinking of Mark as an older brother.

"Of course I am." Catherine replied, staying in front of him. She looked to the entrance of the palace and observed Boleyn arriving with Norfolk. Mark followed her glance.

"He offers me, us, money for simply helping his daughter to appear on a pageant?" she continued shortly, after Boleyn and Norfolk disappeared before the wooden door.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea to be close to Anne Boleyn." Mark said wisely, looking into her eyes again.

"Do you think they are plotting something?" she whispered, stepping closer to him as she saw some nobles also walking in the garden.

"Do you think not?" Mark answered and looked from her to the nobles and back to her again, he then also lowered his tone. "Come on, we all know Sir Boleyn practically threw his other daughter at the King, it would not surprise me if he tries it again with Lady Anne."

"Well, I do not know what their intentions are," Catherine continued with a nod, acknowledging his point. "But I still feel I should be on Anne's side. At least appear to be."

"What is in it to you, if you do not mind me asking?"

"Henry VIII is easy to manipulate, we can see by how he is Wolsey's puppet," Catherine said with a somewhat sarcastic smile, Mark smiled back at her nodding for her to continue. "And Anne is too smart to let herself be used by him as her sister did. Once she has her hands on his strings, she can pull them in my favor."

"Remember," she said, lifting her hand as if in a warning and taking his hat. She smiled slyly at him and put his hat in her head. "I helped her once."

"You truly are your father's daughter.' Mark said with a laugh and pulled her friendly for a hug. Catherine hugged him laughing and from far away she saw Charles Brandon observing them, but turning and leaving with some other nobles.

**x**

"Your Majesty." Catherine bowed slightly when Queen Katherine entered the hall. She had just returned from her stroll with Mark and the queen requested her company.

"Lady Catherine," the Queen smiled at her and gestured for the other ladies to leave, as they were left alone, the Queen seated in a satin couch and gestured for Catherine to sit before her.

"¿Cómo estás?" the Queen asked as Catherine sat in front of her, both hands politely in her lap.

_(How are you?)_

"Bien, mi Señora." Catherine replied in her perfect Spanish. The past months serving the Queen perfected her in the language.

_(Good, my Lady.)_

"Quiero que haces algo para mí." the Queen said lowly.

_(I want you to do something for me)_

"Por supuesto, Su Majestad." Catherine nodded, slightly surprised.

_(Of course, Your Majesty)_

"He oído decir que el español enviados ya están en su camino el a corte,"

_(I heard the Spanish envoys are already on their way to court)_

"Sí, mi Señora."

_(Yes, my Lady)_

"También recuerdo que tu habia pedido para ver la recepción con su amigo," the Queen continued as Catherine kept nodding in consent. "Así que he pensado si podría por favor saludar a los enviados en mi nombre, antes de ellos venir verme."

_(I also remember you have asked me to attend the reception with your friend, thus I thought if you could please greet the envoys in my name, before they come to see me)_

"Sí, mi placer, Su Majestad," Catherine said with a slightly bow of her head, before standing up to follow her duties, the Queen stood up with her.

_(Yes, my pleasure, Your Majesty)_

"Y una cosa más..."

_(And one more thing)_

"¿Sí, mi Señora?" Catherine bowed slightly again, listening attentively.

_(Yes, my Lady) _

"Tengan cuidado de lo que el Cardenal dice a ellos," the Queen replied lowly, but Catherine could hear her perfectly. "Si es posible, por favor."

(_Beware of what the Cardinal tells them, if possible, please)_

"Sí, mi Señora." Catherine nodded once again and bowed as her leave. The Queen nodded in consent and she took a few steps backwards, before reaching the door and leaving.

_(Yes, my Lady)_

**x**

"Wolsey?" Mark whispered in Catherine's ear as they both stood side to side in one of the meeting halls, awaiting Wolsey and the envoys. "What would Wolsey possibly say that the Queen would mind?"

"Well, everything." Catherine whispered back, keeping her eyes in the two closed doors where Wolsey was with the envoys, three guards stood outside as well as Mr. More and Mr. Pace who just had entered to other room.

"She knows Wolsey better than the King." Catherine rushed her words when the doors opened again and Cardinal Wolsey approached with Mr. Pace following him.

"Your Eminence." Catherine and Mark said together as the Cardinal stopped in front of them, and both forced themselves to bow.

"Lady Catherine," Wolsey said calmly, but visibly not pleased to address to her. "Mr. Pace tells me Queen Katherine sent you to greet the Spanish envoys."

"Yes, your Eminence." Catherine answered, not trying to hide her discontentment either.

"You may do so now, but be brief." the Cardinal gestured for her to enter the other room.

"Yes, your Eminence." Catherine nodded and exchanged a reassuring look with Mark before entering the other room with Mr. Pace.

"Lady Catherine Stafford." Mr. Pace announced to the envoys before she entered. "Lady Catherine, Mr. Chapuys and Mr. Mendoza."

"Sus Excelencias," Catherine greeted as she approached them and bowed slightly. One of them took her hand and kissed gently, the other following the same gesture shortly after.

_(Your Excellencies)_

"Reina Catalina de Aragón me ha enviado para saludar a usteds personalmente," Catherine continued with a candid and polite smile, the two envoys listening to her with certain curiosity. "Su Majestad envía su amor y espera que disfrute de su estancia."

_(Queen Katherine of Aragon sent me to greet you personally. Her Majesty sends her love and expects you to enjoy your stay)_

"Muchas Gracias, Lady Catherine." Mr. Chapuys replied with a smile.

_(Thank you very much, Lady Catherine)_

"Ya está preparado para Vuestras Excelencias para hacer frente a Su Majestad más tarde." Catherine nodded and replied with the same smile as before, noting that Wolsey watched carefully from a corner of the room.

_(It is already arranged for your Excelencies to meet the Queen later)_

"Gracias," Mr. Mendoza replied this time and continued lower. "Dígame, ¿es española, mi señora?"

_(Thank you. Tell me, are you Spanish, my Lady?)_

"No, mi señores," Catherine shook her head, laughing briefly with the sudden question. "Ni siquiera del patrimonio español. Soy hija del duque de Buckingham, y miembro de la dinastía York."

_(No, my Lords. Not even of Spanish heritage. I am daughter of the Duke of Buckingham and member of the York dynasty)_

"Por lo tanto, es un honra para mí ser recibido por Su Gracia." Mr. Mendoza said surprised, bowing slightly to her, as Mr. Chapuys. Catherine smiled a bit slyly and shot a killing look at Wolsey, who avoided her.

_(Then, it is an honour to us to be greeted by Your Grace)_

"Gracias, mi Señores." Catherine nodded slightly, still bearing a sly smile. "Pero tengo que ir ahora. Por favor, disfrute de su recepción."

_(Thank you, my Lords. But now I must leave, enjoy the reception)_

The two envoys once again kissed Catherine's hand and before she left the room, she made sure to shoot another look at Wolsey, who sighed impatiently and aphatetically, but Catherine knew he was somewhat outraged.


	6. Chapter VI

**VI**

"Why, oh why?" Mark said under his breath, observing the people gathering around for the pageant. He took his hat off and walked towards one of the walls, away from the entire buzz.

"What are you whining about, Mark my dear old friend?" Catherine said, coming from a rear door and stopping right beside him, in her hand she had a silver cup, half full of wine.

"You have had too much wine already, Catherine," Mark narrowed his eyes, aiming for Catherine's cup, but she took her hand away.

"Oh please, if I am to be forced to socialize with His Grace, the _splendid_ Duke of Suffolk," she answered with a mumbled, half drunk tone, gesturing delicately. "I have to draw myself to his level."

Mark sighed and shook his head, looking away from her and Mr. Cornish finishing some touch ups in the ornamented stage, it looked like a small castle in the salon. Some court people gathered around the stage to watch the play and a little away from the corner where Catherine and Mark were, four chairs were positioned for the envoys, Wolsey and Sir Thomas More.

Catherine had started drinking since she left the presence of the envoys. She met briefly Charles Brandon in one of the halls, preparing with some others to act in the play. Elizabeth Grey, the cousin to the Marquees of Dorset, was there with him. She was a blonde girl of eighteen, she wasn't very easy on the eyes, with a round face and big blue eyes, also being a little large, but had a very beautiful smile.

Catherine heard Charles was betrothed to her and they would marry when he returned from Portugal, where he would escort Princess Margaret - the King's sister - to marry the Portuguese king. Charles didn't seem very happy with the idea of himself getting married, Catherine could notice, by the cold way he treated Elizabeth by his side. Charles never treated Catherine coldly, even though they didn't speak much. And she had no idea why, but knowing Charles would marry soon enraged her in a way she only found comfort in the wine.

She couldn't speak to Mark about this. He certainly would tell her, as he had done before, to just let go of Charles. She tried, several times; she's been ignoring him and being as hostile as she could to him, but it was impossible for her to keep doing this. He insisted in crossing her path, in looking at her, even after the countless times she treated him badly, he distanced himself, but the looks were still the same, as if he was waiting for her to stop being so defensive, to then "attack" again.

With all these confused thoughts, she made her way to one of the kitchens and grabbed two cups of wine, drinking one fast and taking the other to the salon with her as she felt the alcohol taking effect on her; her thoughts about Charles rapidly sweeping away from her mind, as she started to feel slightly dizzy, when she found Mark mumbling in a corner.

"Nonetheless," Catherine said after taking a long sip from her cup, gesturing again with her hand. "You have no answered my question. What were you whining about?"

"This play." Mark answered simply, watching Thomas Tallis and the other musicians walking up some stairs towards the balcony, where they were set to play.

"What about it?" Catherine took his attention again.

"It is hideous. It has nothing to do with me whatsoever." he replied bitterly. He really did not enjoy writing something he didn't feel inside himself.

"One day, listen carefully Mark..." Catherine started, supporting herself on his shoulder with one of her hands, speaking closely to his ear. He could feel her cold lips from the wine touching his skin slightly, and he wasn't able to understand why he felt good about it.

"One day I will have my title back and you won't have to do these things," she continued and he turned his head slightly to look at her eyes. "You will write only what pleases you. I promise."

She exchanged a look with him and smiled as his nodded, seeing how drunk she already was, but enjoying the way she was close to him at the same time. However, he wasn't able to take advantage of the situation, due to his good heart; Mark took her hand from his shoulder, as he noticed people looking, helping her to stay still by his side.

"His Eminence, Cardinal Wolsey, and the Spanish ambassadors, Mendoza and Chapuys." he heard Mr. Pace announcing, and Catherine distanced herself a few inches from him, observing the ambassadors entering the salon. Mr. Chapuys nodded quietly as he set his eyes on her and she smiled, raising her cup a little, noticing Wolsey's cunning eyes over her.

They watched as the ladies dressed in white entered the stage and positioned themselves in the castle; they had names such as kindness and honor written in their outfits. Then ladies dressed in black joined them, with names such as danger and jealousy in their dresses. As Catherine read the script, she knew the kindnesses were prisoners of the others. Among the kindnesses she saw Lady Anne Boleyn and Princess Margaret on top, even with masks she could recognize them.

Then the men, also with masks, entered the stage and positioned themselves in front of the castle. They carried names such as youth and devotion. Catherine recognized Charles, the King, Mr. Compton and Knivert among them.

Mr. Cornish as Ardent Desire led the play and dialogue ensued between him and the ladies in black. He demanded them to release the prisoners and the ladies in black denied his wishes. In the end, Ardent Desire says desire overcomes all and the men invade the castle to release the ladies in white. After that, a dance between the ladies in white and the men followed.

Catherine and Mark couldn't help but to notice the King's eyes in Anne Boleyn all the time, Catherine rapidly exchanged a look with Mark and he nodded. When the dance finished the King still had his eyes on Anne. And Catherine walked towards Mark after the masks were taken from their eyes and the feast continued.

"Oh my friend, it was not that bad." Catherine took the last sip of her cup and put it on a tray, as a servant passed by with full cups, she then took another one. Mark shot a disapproval look at her but said nothing about it.

"Your drunken honesty surely comforts me." He said quietly as she approached him again and half laughed. "_Not that bad_." he repeated her words.

"You were saying it is bad yourself." Catherine said with a laugh. "Who can understand you artists?"

They continued laughing, Catherine already feeling tears in her eyes, not remembering what she was laughing of anymore, the alcohol certainly contributing for her not being able to control herself and Mark laughing of her. She then tripped in her own dress and almost fell, but Mark caught her in the air, helping her up, the cup however fell on the ground, spilling the drink on the marbled floor.

"Oh God!" Catherine exclaimed, laughing. She then held Mark's arms in front of her, Mark laughed at her laughing and they both walked away together from the dirty floor, Mark gesturing for a servant where the wine had spilled as they passed by one and Catherine catching Charles Brandon's eyes over the two of them, as he drank with his own friends.

**x**

After taking Princess Mary, the King and Queen's daughter to her tutor, Catherine left that part of the palace and walked outside, observing the garden as she made her way to the Queen's quarters.

It had been two days since the pageant and she still suffered small headaches from the abuse with the alcohol. But at least she could say she had fun that night; after leaving the salon her and Mark joined a few other commons, Anne Boleyn with them, and they all headed to one of the endless gardens, where they talked and sang all night.

As she walked on the garden that morning she recalled some of the moments from that night, but her thoughts were interrupted as she observed the King arriving in the palace with some of his servants behind him, she observed they carried guns, he must have been off practicing his shooting. She stopped when he passed by her and bowed as she had to, waiting for him to leave to keep her own way.

However the King stopped. He looked at Catherine and recognized her immediately, gesturing for his servants to continue without him. Catherine caught that by the corner of her eyes, but didn't dare to look at him.

"Lady Catherine." the King called, allowing her to lift her head and look at his eyes, and so she did.

"Your Majesty." Catherine answered, fighting hard her feelings in having to treat him so politely; the image of her beheaded father in her mind.

"May we speak?" the King asked, surprising her. She nodded, and he gestured for her to stand up.

"Of course, Your Majesty." she said, standing on her feet again.

"You know Lady Anne." He started with no ceremony, Catherine hid her smile. "Anne Boleyn."

"Yes, Your Majesty." she nodded, successfully managing not to show any interest.

"I have heard you were friends in France." the King continued, looking directly at her eyes. "Had been together in Francis' court." he gestured apathetically.

"Yes, that is true, Your Majesty." Catherine nodded again, looking back at his eyes, still trying hard not to show any interest.

"So you know if she has ever had any affairs in France, or even here." he concluded, without any ceremony again.

"I might know, your Majesty." she replied, this time with a slight sly in her voice. The King frowned, amused by her daring.

"You _might_?" he asked, choosing to play her way. "Meaning... ?"

"Meaning I might choose not to speak about it," she answered, even more daring. By then she had her eyes clearly in a defiant expression. "_Your Majesty_." she added ironically.

Henry laughed lowly, impressed and not really finding anything funny there. He then looked around and found some people observing them from far away.

"And what would I, _your King_," he added with an emphasis, looking back at her. "What would I have to do to gain your trust in such matters, Lady Catherine?"

"I want to see my sister." Catherine was the one to answer with no ceremony this time.

Henry watched her in silence for a second, both amused and outraged by how daring she was; just like her father. But he saw somewhat an ally in what he wanted there, and with a nod he answered her.

"That can be arranged." he said, and Catherine smiled victoriously.

**x**

"You did not!" Mark exclaimed as Catherine finished telling her conversation with the King. He arranged for her to visit her sister in two days. "Do you know how dangerous is that? Playing with the King?"

"I do," Catherine nodded, she was very sure of how dangerous it was; playing with the King led her father to death. But she was careful. "But then again, everything in this court is."

"But he could simply banish you from court and cut your pension and your sister's!" Mark added with a visible incredulity and worry in his voice.

"Yes, but he did not." Catherine nodded, sitting beside him in the bench in one of the salons, on a table distant from the feast of that night. "And do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Thomas More wouldn't let him." Catherine said with a smile, glancing at Sir Thomas More talking with some other nobles far away from them, she then glanced back at Mark. "And his conscience, if he has one."

"And Charles Brandon." Mark added with some disdain, looking away from her.

"Don't be absurd!" Catherine said. "What does _he_ have to do with it?"

"Have you ever tried to find out why exactly the King would let you stay in court?" Mark said more serious, looking back at her.

"I don't understand." Catherine said, narrowing her face, clearly confused with his words.

"He could simply keep you in your palace, with your sister. Point in fact he would ignore Sir More as he has done before, his pride is greater than his kindness." Mark explained. "Why would he want you here?"

"To humiliate me?" Catherine said the most obvious to her. But Mark thought differently, shaking his head.

"Do you _really_ think so?" he asked. She looked deeply in his eyes; puzzled she said nothing and started dining.

**x**

That night Catherine couldn't sleep properly. She woke up several times in during the night, thinking of Mark said to her during the feast. And that morning she decided to clear her conscience before traveling to see her sister, and before Charles left. He would leave the day after she did, and she took a time in her schedule with the Queen to talk to him.

It wasn't hard to find out where he was; a few questions in court and she found out he would be in a tennis match soon, with Mr. Compton, Mr. Knivert and others. She then walked towards the tennis salon, only to find him arriving with the said others. She approached them and they all nodded respectfully at her.

"Brandon." Catherine said after nodding back at them.

"My lady." Charles replied with his usual ironic smile.

"I have to speak with you."

"Do you?" He replied with a half laugh and look at the others, looking at the two of them with interest.

"Well, that's a surprise." he added bitterly.

Ignoring him trying to upset her, she gestured if he could follow her and he nodded, shortly following her a little away from the other, where they could talking without being heard.

"When my father was executed..." she started as soon as she turned around to look at him.

"Why are speaking about that now?" he cut her, the ironic smile vanishing from his face.

"Can't you just listen?" she said, loosing her nerve for a second. He nodded, but still didn't smile. She took a long breath; talking to Charles proved to be more difficult that she thought.

"Continue." he said, as he noted her pause.

"Brandon, come!" they heard William Compton calling from the salon doors, they both looked, but stayed where they were.

"Speak." he gestured for her to continued, ignoring his friend.

"When he was executed," she started and he noted how difficult it was for her to talk to him, especially about her father's death, but said nothing. "Cardinal Wolsey told me Thomas More spoke to the King in my behalf."

"He did." Charles said shortly after she finished.

"You were there?" she asked surprised, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes." Charles answered sincerely, he sort of knew what was coming after that, but wanted to hear from her. However, he didn't quite know how to react after he heard what he was expecting to hear.

"Brandon!" William called again, but this time neither of them looked.

"What was the King's decision?" she asked, looking deeply at his eyes.

"That which you are living by now."

"But Sir More did not convince him to keep me in court, did he?" she asked, slowly getting where she wanted. Charles didn't answer. "He wouldn't want me to be in court, victim of all punishing eyes."

"Where are you trying to get, Lady Catherine?" he asked, a little offended. He knew exactly what her doubts were, but he didn't know what she thought about them.

"Did you speak in my behalf?" she asked finally. "Did you ask the King to keep me in court? Not to leave me to the winds?"

"BRANDON!" they heard then several voices calling, but Charles did not look away from her eyes.

"I have to leave." he said after brief seconds in silence, already looking away from her and stepping his way back to the salon.

"Charles," she called, grabbing his wrist gently, he stopped and looked back at her. "Answer me, _please_". she added.

"My lady." Charles said in a farewell, and gently took his wrist from her grasp, walking away.


	7. Chapter VII

_**A/N:**__ Hey people! Thanks for all the reviews, they've made my week and inspired me to write more. Thank you! I'm sorry I've taken a bit longer to update this time, but I hope you enjoy. Please do not forget to review, thank you!  


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**VII**

"Sister!" Mary called out running towards the door as she saw Catherine entering the fortress.

"Hello, mon petit!" Catherine said with a wide smile, placing the umbrella she was using outside to protect herself from the sun on the ground, beside the door. "Oh, how I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Mary said as Catherine kneeled and embraced her tightly, standing up.

"Tell me everything," Catherine started, walking around the main hall of her small fortress with Mary in her arms. "How is your French? Have you been riding?"

"Catherine, slow down." Mark said with a small laugh observing Catherine anxiously walking around the house with Mary in her arms. He finished giving the orders to some servants to take her luggage to her room and followed her to one of the living rooms.

"My lady, this arrived in the morning." Lady Eleanore, Mark's mother, entered the living room right after them, carrying a large box.

"What is it?" Catherine frowned, sitting in one of the luxurious couches, placing Mary in her lap and looking from Mark to his mother.

Mark took the box and placed it over another couch, taking a small note that was stick to the box and reading carefully.

"It is destined to Mary." he said, after reading the note and handing it to Catherine.

"It's from the King." he added before she took the note and read '_To Mary Stafford. From: His Majesty King Henry VIII_'.

"Burn it." Catherine said simply, but visibly distressed, handing the note back to Mark. Mary observed everything in silence.

"Catherine," Mark said carefully, after exchanging a concerned look with his mother. "Better not."

"I _said_ burn it." Catherine said an octave higher, looking from Mark to his mother.

"Catherine, don't." Mark insisted.

"I wish to see it." Mary said lowly, but loud enough for everyone to hear her. Catherine broke eye contact with Mark and observed Mary's curious eyes in front of her; she then exchanged one last look with Mark and sighed.

"Alright, open it." Catherine said listless.

Mary let out a smile before standing up and reaching for the box on the other couch. With Eleanor's help she untied the laces and opened the box, only to reveal a beautiful golden colored dress with drawings of red roses. Of excellent taste, no doubt. Catherine observed the dress as Eleanor helped Mary to take it out of the box.

"Look how beautiful it is, Mary!" Lady Eleanor said with a smile, as she exchanged a look with Catherine, hanging the dress in front of Mary.

"Catherine, may I keep it?" Mary asked shyly, but with a childish look. Catherine sighed and shook her head. "Please?"

Catherine then saw Lady Eleanor's and Mark's eyes on her, both nodding their heads simultaneously.

"Oh fine!" Catherine said with another sigh, standing up distressfully, walking out of the room, upstairs to her stateroom. Mark followed her shortly after.

**x**

"Why do you think he sent it?" Mark asked as he watched Catherine lying on the bed in front of him. Her long black hair splattered around her head, her beautiful dark red dress also taking the bed, she had her face turned to the side he was seating, distractively playing with a lock of her hair.

"To remember me I have to pay back," she answered thoughtfully, her eyes lost in the lock of her own hair.

"What will you tell him?" Mark asked, a bit unsure, seeing by how distracted and lost in her own thoughts she was.

"What he wants to hear," she said assuring, as if she had just woken up. She then sat on the bed and looked away from him. "No matter if I tell she had as many lovers as I had in France, even her own cousin Master Wyatt, he will not believe it."

"So you will tell him she had no lovers?" Mark asked, visibly surprised.

"I will tell him she had _admirers_," Catherine said carefully, as if she was planning everything in her head, then she looked back at him. "And I won't be lying, after all. Will I?"

"Certainly not," Mark nodded, laying his back against the couch, reflecting. "She _does _have many admires, always had from what you tell me about France."

"She is what 'court' is all about," Catherine said even with a loving laugh. "Always captivated everyone."

"Lady Catherine," their conversation was interrupted with a knock on open door, before one of the servants entered the room. "Sir Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk are downstairs asking for you."

"_What_?" Catherine couldn't help to react instantly to the names. Mark exchanged a look with her, before standing up to take her downstairs.

**x**

The steps down to the main hall of her house were the longest ever, mostly because before taking them, she asked for Mark to stay on the top of the stairs, but not go down with her. He insisted, but she would not let him. As she reached the hall, she was greeted by Thomas Boleyn and Thomas Howard; both men looking quite sly and serious, but managed a forced nod to her.

"Sir Thomas, Your Grace." Catherine said, acknowledging her visitors.

"Lady Catherine." both of them said lowly.

"To what do I owe the honor?" she asked notably sarcastic.

"I will be straight forward, Lady Catherine." Sir Thomas said after he exchanged a look with his brother in law. "I know you have an audience with the King and I know he paid this visit to your sister and raised your pension."

"Yes," Catherine nodded, blankly staring at them. "_And_... ?"

"You know about the king and Anne." the Duke of Norfolk continued a bit more calm than Boleyn. "What are you planning? You are not as cunning as your father, but might end up just like him."

Catherine fought hard to keep her unexpressive face and not to grab Norfolk's neck right there. She took a moment to put her thoughts together before replying.

"I don't think so, Your Grace." she said controlling, but calmly. "Since whatever it is I am planning I am planning alone. This time no one will tell the king anything. Isn't that right?"

Clearly the two men took the hint: she always knew it was them that told the king about her father's plan. It was their time of taking a moment before replying.

"You would never be able to hold the King's attention for long!" Thomas Boleyn yelled an octave higher, losing his temper. "He will tire of you as he had done to others!"

"Oh, I see," Catherine said with a laugh. She then walked calmly around the room, laughing, which clearly disturbed the two men. "You two think I am a mistress to Henry VIII? But oh, you must not worry. I am not and neither I intend to be, the closer I will ever get to His Majesty is through Charles Brandon. As you gentlemen know very well."

"But then _why_ all of this, Lady Catherine?" Norfolk said a bit impatiently. The way the girl kept needling them was surely taking him off his mind.

"Well, Your Grace, I owe no explanation to you." Catherine said in a discreet mocking tone. Then she smiled, Boleyn and Norfolk stared at her with both curiosity and awe to her bold words.

"But I want to settle this, so I will not have to stand your presumptuous presence in my estate no more." she added, after a brief smile. She then started walking around the room. Her shoes making a repetitive noise on the wooden floor, as she made her way to a corner where a beautiful fireplace stood with an enormous painting of the Elizabeth of York above it.

In the few seconds she silently walked towards the fireplace she quickly drew a plan in her mind: Norfolk and Boleyn now certainly were afraid of what she could tell Henry VIII, and they certainly had no idea that no matter if she told the truth, he would only listen to what he wanted. She had just said that to Mark… And there she saw a chance she could not let pass.

"You gentlemen are not exactly very aware of your surroundings, am I right?" she started, stopping in front of the fireplace and glanced at the two men that stood where they were, watching her. She saw then that Mark had come down the stairs and watched her from there.

"Since my father has died I have been stripped from everything." she gestured around to the still beautifully decorated room, but missing many of its expensive decoration.

"My family riches, lands, titles, _everything_ is in the possession of Henry VIII now." she continued, looking down and taking a deep breath. Trying hard not to show how disgusted she felt by Henry.

"Even my mother's jewelries," Catherine continued and looked in the two men's eyes, one after the other. Then she stepped forward and stood a few inches from them.

"I want it all back and I will do _anything_ to have it." she said lower. And glanced for a moment at Mark standing by the stairs, then she looked back at the men, still in awe and silence watching her.

"I am not as greedy as my father, however," Catherine continued lowly with a bittersweet smile. "I have no wish over the throne; in fact I want to be away from it as much as I can. I just want what was mine before."

Boleyn and Norfolk exchanged a look before looking back at Catherine, again distancing herself from them, back to the fireplace. With her back to them, she wiped a few tears that had come to her eyes. Tears of wrath. Whenever she reminded herself of all that Henry VIII had taken from her, she felt enraged.

And her pause was crucial at that moment. The two gentlemen could then understand that she, indeed, did not want Anne's place. She was disgusted by the sight and thought of Henry VIII. And they saw there and then that they could have an ally. Catherine made sure they would see that, measuring every single word that she spoke.

"So I must tell you whatever your scheme is, it is working." Catherine said moments later, turning around to look at Norfolk and Boleyn. "The King is fascinated by Anne. But he isn't a complete fool. He looked for me because he knows I am close to her and he knows it was _you_ that betrayed my father."

Both Norfolk and Boleyn stepped back with her last sentence, as if defending themselves from an invisible sword. Catherine smiled; they probably thought she was a foolish young girl. Certainly the fact that she was so aware of her surroundings, and especially what brought her father's death, did impress the two gentlemen. And they didn't even dream that right at that moment she was also architecting a plan of her own.

"So the King must think I would do anything to revenge my father. But I see _further_ than that." she said with mischievous smile. "He asked me of her lovers and do not worry, I have not told him yet. I asked to see my sister first."

"What do you want?" Boleyn spoke finally. Norfolk nodded.

"Riches? We can arrange you that." Norfolk added, gesturing around.

"No, you have _not_ been listening, Your Grace." Catherine replied and approached them. "I do not want _your_ riches, I want _my_ riches."

"Anne has good chances in winning the king's heart and even to become queen. I know her, I know how intelligent she is." she continued and observed Mark for a second, whom nodded in tension for her to continue whatever she was planning.

"But if I open my mouth to say all I know about her, then she will go nowhere." she then became a few inches away from the men again, speaking lowly. "But I might tell him how much of a good and pure lady she is when he asks. When you have enough power and the King starts to spread his favor to you, I want you to ask him to restore my title and give me everything back. No more, no less."

Catherine laid down her cards. She had no idea where all of this could take her, but then again she had nothing else to lose, only her life. For a moment there she thought of how much her father would be proud of all of this. And how much she, a few years back, of disapprove this in herself. But life had made her that way.

"How you will do that I do not mind, and I _know_ you can do it." she finished. And Norfolk and Boleyn seemed to have been in a long and difficult battle, for they were breathing fast and steadily.

"Agreed." Boleyn said before she could turn around and distance herself from them. He then stood his arm to her. She gave him his hand and he shook it slightly, before kissing it courteously.

"When I return to court I will be pleased to tell the King wonders about your daughter then," Catherine said a moment after Boleyn let go of her hand, Mark then approached her and she added for the two gentlemen. "Now, please _leave_."


	8. Chapter VIII

_**A/N:** Hello everyone! It's been a looooong time, right? Well, I'm back! And for reals now. I'm sorry I've abandoned you guys for a while, but I won't do it again!_

_I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**VIII**

Catherine entered the common hall where people waited to see the King and looked quickly around. Of course she wasn't pleased to be there, but she made a deal and she had everything focused in her mind: As much as she despised Henry, she had to deal with him and to follow with what she promised. Also, since the visit from Thomas Boleyn and Norfolk, she had the feeling that she could profit a lot from this sudden proximity with the King.

As she walked through the hall aiming for some ladies that she was acquainted with, she noticed Charles Brandon in a corner smiling and flirting with some random girl. She frowned for a second and it was as if Charles could feel her looking at him and then he immediately fixed his eyes on hers, his smile disappeared from his face and he glared at her way too deep.

Courteously he nodded, acknowledging her presence; she let out a small smile and nodded back, but quickly broke eye contact. She still thought of the conversation they had before she went to visit her sister. Brandon didn't confirm that he had spoken in her behalf for the King not to banish her and worse, however his silent was more than an affirmative to her than if he had actually said it.

As she reached for the ladies in the hall, she leaned towards Lady Elizabeth and spoke lowly.

"What is Charles Brandon doing here?" she asked quietly. Elizabeth glanced from her to Charles on the opposite corner and then back at her.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth replied while still looking at Charles, looking confused "He is always here."

"You know what I mean," Catherine replied with a suggestive look. "Isn't he supposed to be sailing for Portugal?"

"Oh, no," Elizabeth said shaking her head. "His Majesty wants Princess Margaret to be here when the Holy Roman Emperor arrives."

"The Holy Roman Emperor?" Catherine asked surprised, when she left court to visit her sister there wasn't any talk that the emperor would come. Queen Katherine must me thrilled, she thought.

"Yes, it is confirmed, the Queen is very happy," Elizabeth said with a smile, she was by far the most dedicated lady in waiting to the Queen. "He should be arriving soon."

Catherine smiled and nodded with her head. She was grateful for the Queen's care and attention towards her and for the first time it hit her mind that she was about to help Henry VIII take Anne Boleyn as a mistress. She was betraying the only person in court that truly seemed to understand what she went through when her father was beheaded.

But what could she do? No matter how close she could possibly get to the Queen, Her Majesty would never be able to help restore her title and riches. Katherine wasn't the kind of Queen that was able to convince Henry of anything, let alone make him back up with some decision he has already made.

"Lady Catherine Stafford," one of the chamber men opened the door to the King's meeting state and called for Catherine's name before she could finish her thoughts.

Lady Elizabeth looked reassuringly to her, even though she had no idea what Catherine would do there. Catherine let out another faint smile and picked up the trail of her dress, walking towards the King's hall. Before entering, she exchanged a look with Charles that seemed perplexed with the fact that she actually had an audience with Henry.

x

Catherine entered the meeting hall and the doors were immediately closed behind her. She looked up to find Henry sitting on one of his thrones, his blues eyes piercing her image as if he could see past her eyes and read everything that was in her mind. She bowed slightly and he gestured for her to come closer, with a small smile on his face.

"Your Majesty," Catherine acknowledged while walking towards him, stopping a few steps down from his throne, right in front of him with her hands in front of her body.

"Lady Catherine, welcome back." The King nodded again acknowledging her. Once again Catherine fought hard to seem as relaxed as she could, but she could feel her blood running hot through her veins just by the sight of Henry and his sardonic look.

"Thank you," was all that she was able to say while controlling every inch of her body not to kill him right there.

"How is your sister, my dear cousin?" he asked apathetically, of course he wasn't so warm towards their blood relation, in fact, he had rarely mentioned it in court.

"She is well, Your Majesty, thank you," that small talk was killing her, but it was all part of the plan: Henry kept thinking she was fooled by his meaningless words and she kept on playing along.

"Did she like the present I sent to her?"

"Yes, your Majesty. She sends her gratitude."

"Hum…" Henry nodded while analyzing her, and as if in a magic trick, his cynical smile and façade vanished, giving room to the egocentric Henry in front of her.

"Well, tell me, Lady Catherine. What do you know of Anne Boleyn?" he asked without rounds. Catherine took a moment to reply, analyzing him in internal disgust while keeping her blank face on.

"Popular," she started and he nodded for the to continue. "Admired by many men, but utterly hated by many women as well."

"Hated?" he frowned.

"Nothing but jealousy, I believe." Catherine said, and so far she hasn't lied. "Lady Anne is hated only for those who do not have the chance to truly know her."

"But of course Your Majesty knows all about that," she continued with a false smile. "The ones on the top, whichever the circumstances are, always provoke jealousy from those that cannot afford to be on top themselves."

There was a brief silence while the king kept on analyzing the girl in front of him. Of course he understood what she meant by her last sentence; she wasn't talking about Anne, she was talking about him. But he wasn't a fool, she could also be talking about herself and the fact that her father was richer and more admired than him, but he chose to ignore that.

"Right," he nodded. "What of Mister Wyatt?"

"Only one of her many admirers, he shouldn't be considered a threat," Catherine lied so easily that it even surprised herself, her black expression didn't leave room for doubt.

"Besides, Mr. Wyatt is married." She added shortly after.

As far as she knew, Anne and Thomas Wyatt for long held a relationship. She didn't know whether they still carried on with it, but she could guess not because Anne and her family seemed deadly serious about throwing her to the King, they weren't fools, therefore they wouldn't allow the romance to continue while they carefully architected their plan.

"So you are saying Lady Anne never had an affair with Master Wyatt as they speak of in court?" Henry asked.

"Never," Catherine easily lied again. Her hatred for the King was so grand that she could do this so naturally that even with his powerful eyes locked in hers, she did not feel threatened.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," she continued. "Do not listen to the gossip in court. All jealousy, as I said."

"Very well," the King nodded and gestured for her to leave. "Thank you, Lady Catherine," he added politely before Catherine bowed once again and walked out of the room.

x

"So," Mark asked when Catherine joined him in the evening after her chores with the Queen. "How was your audience with the King?"

They were in one of the main halls for supper. She sat by her side after nodding in acknowledgement of the others that joined them at the table.

"I said what he wanted to hear and what Norfolk and Boleyn wanted me to say," she answered lowly close to him, so only he could hear her "So everyone is happy. Except me, of course."

"Well, you have to be patient," Mark replied in the same tone as her, then drinking a sip of wine. "At least he raised your pension."

"Yes, you are right," she nodded and Charles Brandon at a table with other nobles caught her eye. She observed him while carefully and mannerly eating her soup.

"Brandon, huh?" Mark followed her eyes and said almost in a scoff. "Again. I see…"

"What do you mean _again_?" Catherine answered high-pitched, surprised, her eyes on Mark.

"Again he has managed to have your eyes on him all the time," Mark answered simply taking a bite on his bread.

"Don't be absurd!" she answered scoffing and took a sip of her drink. "I was just… Well, you know…"

"Yes, you were _just looking_ at him, right," he added sarcastically.

Catherine shook her head with a scornful smile, but before she could think of an answer, two guards entered the hall and sounded the flugelhorns and another one announced when everyone stood up puzzled.

"My Lords and Ladies," the guard started. "His Imperial Highness, Charles, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Aragon, Valencia, Naples and Sicily."

Catherine exchanged a surprised look with Mark as the Emperor entered the hall dressed in the finest Spanish fashion; his famous huge chin was the first thing anyone could notice, and he seemed very happy to be there.

"… Duke of Burgundian territories and Archduke of Austria." The guard finished announcing as the Emperor made his way between the people that bowed to him. Following him was Mendoza and Chapuys, followed by Norfolk and some other nobles, among them Brandon, that seemed just as puzzled as the rest.

"Your Highness!" the recognizable King Henry's voice came from the mezzanine of the salon and all eyes were on him.

"Your Majesty!" Charles said with a smile and looked around surprised as Henry made his way downstairs. "I did not expect…"

"I could not sustain the anticipation!" Henry said, greeting the Emperor. "I had to come down and welcome you myself."

"Then I am truly honoured," Charles replied with a smile after they hugged and kissed.

Catherine sighed and rolled her eyes at the theater both of them seemed to be pulling, when a strange hand touched her waist from behind. She looked to its source and it was no one other than Charles Brandon behind her, before she could speak, he whispered close to her ear.

"May we speak?" he whispered. She hesitated, with her eyes back to Henry and Charles as she felt Charles breath on her neck.

"Tonight we shall dance and feast," Henry continued with a smile. "And tomorrow, you shall come and see my ships!"

"Follow me," Charles whispered again due to Catherine's silence and left the room. She observed him leaving and looked back at the king leaving with Charles to talk. The music started again and the feast continued.

"Just go," Mark, who had observed everything, told her. "You know you want to."

Catherine sighed and turned around, following Charles that had already disappeared between the halls.

x

It wasn't long until she found him on a quiet and deserted corridor; the noise of the feast was just a small buzz from where they were. He stood by a glassed window observing the fireworks outside, when he noted by the shadows of the candles around that she approached him. He looked at her.

"Hello," Charles said with a smile. Deep inside, he wasn't so sure that she would come.

"Hello," Catherine replied, trying to seem normal, but she couldn't help to frown a little. "What do you want?" she asked, sounding sharper then she wished.

"I am leaving in two or three days," he said, ignoring her sharpness. He locked his eyes on hers as she relaxed her frowned expression and laid her back to the wall, with her head turned to him beside her.

"Yes, I have heard…"

"When I come back, I am due to be married to Elizabeth Grey," he continued, his eyes barely blinking, his expression serious. It seemed it was really hard for him to tell her all that.

"So soon?" she asked sincerely, but took care for her voice and expression to seem just curious, not surprised.

"Yes," he nodded, his eyes leaving hers for a second as he glanced outside again for a second. "Very soon."

"You do not seem very animated about it," she said with a faint smile. She did not know why exactly she was going so easy on him; ever since her father's death, they were like cat and dog to each other. But maybe for the way he approached her this time; off guard and calmly, with no sarcasms, made her also ease on him.

"And _you_ know why," he said, with his eyes again locked on hers.

"Yes, you are not a one woman man," she said again with a smile and winked at him. He remained serious.

"I would be, if _you_ had given me the chance," he said at once and she stared at him, her smile completely vanished from her lips.

"What?" she said lowly, taking her back away from the wall and turning her whole body to him.

"I loved you, you know it, do not pretend you don't," he said staring back her shorter figure.

"No, I did not," she said defensively. "You never told me that."

"Did I really have to?" he asked seriously again and scoffed as she stared at him in silence. "In any way, after your father's death you did not let me near you, as if I was to blame for something. I never wished you harm."

"But you did nothing to spare me from it," she said, her eyes were full of tears, but she fought them back. "And you had the power to."

"Yes, I did," he said back, their whole discussion was very low even though they seemed both in an intense tension. "I told Henry not to banish you. I knew that you here would make your way back to what is yours, and I know you are already doing so."

Catherine became silent, her eyes moved away from his as she looked at the marbled floor. So yes, Mark was right: Charles was the one to speak on her behalf. It could have been a lot worse if he had not done so, and she knew that by doing so, he risked his friendship with Henry. Why would he do that? He just said it.

He _loved_ her. Loved. Charles Brandon loved someone. But what did this change her life now? Nothing. He couldn't be with her and she was not sure if she wanted to. She did not know what to say, how to react…

"What now?" she said, looking back at his eyes. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I thought you should know you have another friend here," he said lowly, approaching her. She hesitated when he slowly run his fingers between the locks of her hair. "I know this is not easy for you."

"A friend?" she asked, suspicious as she had always been. But with an inch of disappointment that she would forever deny.

"Now I cannot be anything else, though I wish to," he continued sincerely as he had never done before. But he knew Catherine, if he wanted to bring her back to him, he had to give up his pride first.

"My life is arranged as is yours."

"True," she nodded.

Not even if she was sure she wanted to perhaps marry Charles as he with other words said he wanted to, they could never do it. It would both risk her plans, her life and his reputation as well. If she cared for him the way she did, even though she hid it as well as she could, she should not ask for nothing more than friendship from him.

"But all this does not restrain me to be with you when no one is around, like before… Like _now_," he smiled at her and she shook her head returning a mischievous smile to him. But before she could say anything he pulled her closer and kissed her lips, surprising her.

Unconsciously Catherine returned the passionate kiss back. Even though she would never admit that, she did miss to be in his arms. But she knew she could not carry on with an affair with him, for it could ruin her entire plan to have everything back to her. But at that moment they were alone, and truly after all that she had been through, she did not wish to be anywhere else.

But none of them noted a far away shadow looking at them the entire time, ever since Catherine left the salon; Mark looked down when he saw Catherine embracing and kissing Charles again. He could never have her, he thought.


End file.
